Hawk and Phoenix
by Elin1
Summary: Ongoing Epic. After the Eclipse, Judeau wakes up in another world. This story is about Judeau, and very heavily AU. Approach with an open mind, and don't expect to be seeing much of Guts. Enjoy!
1. The Death of the Hawk

Okay, for the record: I know the Berserk manga continues after the eclipse. I buy every volume as soon as I can get my grubby little hands on them, and I LOVE it. I am a diehard fan of Mr Miura and his work, and I wouldn't change a thing about the original manga. It owns my soul so much, it's not even funny. That is also part of the reason that this fanfic takes place in another world. Okay? Okay.

Chapter One: The Death of the Hawk

The world had cracked open, and madness had poured in, like blood gushing out of a lethal wound.

All around him his comrades were being mercilessly slaughtered, by creatures they wouldn't have believed possible only hours before. It couldn't be true, but it was.

_No!_ He thought, his mind still desperately trying to deny the terrifying truth, even as his many years of combat experience kicked in and allowed him to start fighting for his life. _This can't be how the Band of the Hawk ends! I won't believe it!_

His palm still stung as though the demonic brand had been burnt into it with a red-hot iron. He had tried to block the damned thing, as if such a thing actually could have been parried. It had been a stupid thing to do, but his reflexes had been faster than his thoughts.

He stabbed his sword deeply into another demon and made it reel backwards, when suddenly he saw one of the last remaining horses come running towards him, its original owner gone, most likely dead.

As it rushed past him, he grabbed it by its mane and heaved himself into the saddle. _Great! now, at least, I won't be a sitting duck._ He reined the horse in and brought it around to deliver another blow to the nearly recovered demon, but was interrupted by Pippin's booming voice:

"Judeau!"

Pippin was fighting something enormous, another indescribable nightmare-creature with way too many fanged mouths, and he was barely able to hold it back. Behind him stood Caska, about to draw her sword and join the fray. Judeau immediately realised what Pippin had called him for, and spurred the horse on. Just as Caska was about to rush to Pippin's side, Judeau swept her up into the saddle and, without pause, began galloping away from the big man.

"What are you doing? Let go of me! Pippin!"

He heard Pippins defiant roar behind him and resisted the urge to turn around and help his friend, but Caska didn't make it any easier.

"Turn back! Are you going to let him die?"

"We're not going back!" He growled, more harshly than he had meant. "You're our captain now. You have to survive! As long as you live, the Band of the Hawk lives on!" He knew full well that that was not the only reason he had for wanting to save this woman, more than anyone else on this battelfield, including himself, but what he said was:

"We… we can't let ourselves end like this!"

She looked up at him for a short moment, and then back at Pippin. Judeau kept his eyes on where he was going, but he felt her stiffen and knew that Pippin - mighty, reliable, taciturn Pippin - had met his end. A wave of grief overcame him, but it quickly turned into grim resolve, and he spurred the horse on.

_I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing, my friend. I must save her, or die trying. For the memory of the Band of the Hawk! Everything for the Band of the Hawk!_

Griffith. How could he do this to them? After all they'd been through together, after all that the Band of the Hawk had meant to him – Judeau's mind struggled in vain to come to terms with what his own ears, his own heart had just borne witness to.

_After all we've done, All we've lost... All the waiting, planning, hoping, everything we've risked... We could have gone on together, not like we dreamed, but... we could have... How? How can this be happening? Griffith, why...?_

He heard a rumbling behind him, and realised that some demons were catching up with them. He threw one of his knives into the throng, and was rewarded with a monstrous scream of agony.

"Judeau! To your right!" Caska suddenly screamed, and he turned around to stab the demon, but it was faster than him. Its huge jaws closed around his sword arm with unearthly power, and he couldn't stop himself from screaming as he felt bones shatter and muscles tear.

"Judeau!" Caska quickly drew his other sword and stabbed the demon right above its upper jaw. It released his arm with a scream and a spurt of blood, and fell behind them.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and he breathlessly tried his best to lie to her:

"Yeah… you saved me."

It wasn't a complete lie. Had the demon had time to slow down or maybe stop, he would have been torn right off the horse, and most likely eaten. But he could feel that he was badly injured and could do nothing but let his right arm hang down his side, broken and useless.

She must have noticed.

"Judeau…" she almost pleaded. "I don't care anymore… let's go back. It'll be the same no matter where we run to – They'll always be after us! At least… at least at the end, we can all be together, swords drawn, side by side!"

"Shut up, or you'll bite your tongue off!" he snapped. He needed to motivate her, or they would both fail. If he died, she would have to have the resolve to carry on.

"Struggle! Struggle, struggle until the very, very end! …'I don't want to do battle just to die' – Isn't that what Guts would say?" He hoped that would be enough. He knew how much she respected Guts, and maybe his words would carry enough weight.

That was when the horse came to an abrupt halt. Some horrid amoeba-like creature had come out of nowhere, slid right in underneath them and, opening a fanged mouth almost as long as the creature itself, had caught and already begun to devour the poor, screaming horse. Their momentum threw them out of the saddle, and the two Hawks tumbled to the ground a couple of metres away from the grisly scene.

Caska recovered first, since the encounter with the ground had sent a near-crippling pain lancing throughout Judeau's body from his mangled arm. She rushed to his side.

"Judeau!"

He recovered just in time to see another demon begin to swing down with its whip-like tentacles, and threw himself over Caska almost before he could think about it.

The first lash knocked the air out of his lungs, and he could feel his armour bend inwards by the force of the blow. Yet he remained above her, holding himself up on his hands and knees, stoically ignoring the searing pain in his ruined arm, so that she would be spared from the crushing force of the blows.

As the creature lashed him again and again, denting and even tearing his armour open, he dimly heard her shout at him to stop, to move - but he wouldn't budge. Not even when the demon pierced right through his chest with two sharp spikes.

Through the pain and the shock, he distantly recognised that, at least, the lashing had stopped.

And then he felt, like a ray of sunlight through heavy clouds, her hand cup his cheek - and as her stunned face swam into focus before him, he found the strength to perform one last act of defiance.

Resolutely grabbing a hold of the spikes that protruded from his chest, as if to somehow keep the demon still through its appendages, he pulled a knife from its sheath and threw it back at the monster, all in one smooth motion. Unfortunately, this manouvre caused him to turn his torso, and he blacked out from the pain as the spikes were torn out of his body.

When he came to again Caska was helping him up into a sitting position, worriedly calling his name.

"Did I hit it? It was my last knife…" He was surprised at how weak his own voice sounded, but he needed to know.

"Yeah, you hit it," She reassured him. "You got it good."

_Good._ He relaxed slightly and tried to give her an encouraging smile as he put his hand on her shoulder. "Run." _I can't go any further. I'm dying. I know I am. A person cannot lose as much blood as I'm losing and still stay alive._

"What are you talking about!" she shouted, trying to look angry, but not able to hide how close to tears she was. "You were just telling me to struggle until the very, very end! Stand up!" She began pulling him upright. "You're coming, even if I have to drag you!"

_It backfired, it seems. My own words have turned against me… but I suppose she's right, I have no choice if I want her to go on._

He allowed himself to be pulled up and let her drape his arm around her shoulder.

"Okay, Okay. I'll come… even if I have to crawl."

"No matter what, that's the attitude!" she said, and began walking.

It wasn't as painful as he'd expected, but he had a rising suspicion that the subsiding pain was due to the increasing blood loss. Either way, he found any such troubles uninteresting and distant as his eyes locked on to her comfortingly familiar features.

Her dark eyes, her smooth brown skin, her short, silky, black hair that he could almost smell from here... He was so close to her… his arm was around her… What if he would tell her…?

"I spoke too soon, it seems…" he said instead, referring to the words she had used against him. He could literally feel the life draining from his body. His feet were already numb and barely responsive to his will.

"Take responsibility for the things you've said," she curtly replied.

He would have chuckled, if he had had the strength for it.

"You know… I'm all talk…"

"If you have the energy to complain, then keep walking!"

His words had worked too well; now she was urging him on, and he was only slowing her down.

And he was dying, so why couldn't he tell her?

_I really thought I was a smooth talker… but I couldn't say it, in the end… the one important thing._

And then, almost as this very thought crossed his mind, he knew why. Because she might live. Guts would surely survive, and he would find her, and he would do what Judeau had not been able to… he would save her.

She needed to live happily ever after with Guts, and he didn't want to cast that shadow over her. He had seen how much her unrecruited love for Griffith had hurt her. She didn't need to live with any possible guilt of having caused such pain to someone else.

No… he couldn't. He mustn't.

She had stopped, and she was looking at him almost as if she could read his thoughts, and with her beautiful dark eyes staring into his, despite everything, he almost blurted it out right there.

He scrambled for something to say, some last joke to make, to lift her spirit, if only for a moment… he felt his life begin to peter out and knew that he desperately didn't want the last thing he saw to be a tear in those dark eyes.

So what words did he hear tumble out of his mouth?

"You know… you cry a lot."

The irony almost made him laugh, but he didn't have any strength left. No strength at all. And as he slipped off her shoulder, he thought:

_So… are these my final words?_ Smooth talker, indeed. His words had all failed him today.

He tried to keep touching her for as long as he could, and kept his eyes on hers as he descended into darkness.

In a way, it was comforting. It was like drowning in her dark eyes.


	2. Strange Place

I still don't own Berserk, and I'm still broke.

-*--*-

Chapter two: Strange place.

The first thing he knew was birdsong. Somewhere nearby a bird was chirping, undisturbed and carefree.

_Then… I must be outdoors_, he thought, and his next impressions confirmed this: He felt that the ground he was laying on was soft but uneven and bumpy, and as he took a deep breath he could smell earth and moss - but he didn't get much time to marvel at the sweet feeling of air in his lungs, for it was quickly turned into agony as the pain returned.

And with the pain came the memories.

_Caska! I… tried to save her… from the demons!_

_Red sky… red ground… faces of blood, everywhere… Pippin! Corkus! Gatts! Caska! Griffith! …No, Griffith… betrayed us. …Demons! Demons everywhere! Killing… _

_…They broke me… pierced right through me…_

_…I… I died…_

_…I died…_

_…Didn't I?_

But the bird kept singing and the pain in his body could not be ignored, so he had to concede that he must still be alive. _And!_ it suddenly occurred to him, _if I am alive, then so might the others be!_

He tried to fill his lungs with air so he could call for his comrades, but even the most shallow of breaths sent incredible waves of pain through his body.

_Shit, I must have a couple of broken ribs…_

_…Heh, I shouldn't be surprised, really. That whip-monster gave me quite a treatment…OK, so shouting is out. Lets start with trying to open an eye, instead._

That worked much better; after only a short struggle he managed to crack one eye open a slit, breaking through a thin crust of his own dried blood - but he had to immediately close it again, as the sudden light drove a white-hot needle into his brain.

A couple of groans and attempts later, he could finally focus on what he was looking at, and found that he was almost face down into the ground. It took him a few moments to register that the ground was wrong.

_Hey, before everything went red, weren't we on a plain? …Yes, we were, a wide plain with some shallow lakes in it. So… Why am I looking at pine needles? And where's the grass?_

He tried to look up, but found that one of his long bangs obstructed his view. _Man, this is annoying! All right, no pain, no gain._ He took as deep a breath as he dared, and half blew, half groaned the offending hair out of the way.

When the pain subsided he opened his eye again and found that he was indeed laying on his stomach in a forest. He could see the trunks of tall, slender pines rise up - the nearest maybe two strides away from his head - and a small rise, covered in some kind of bushy vegetation, that cut his sight off further.

_Where the hell am I? Did I really ride that far? Was there even a forest within sight, back there?_

But then he was struck by a much more pressing thought, and he willed his broken lungs to co-operate:

 "Ca… ska!" The cry was broken and weak, and the pain it caused him was nigh unbearable, but he kept trying.

 "C… Caska!" _Please don't let her be dead, oh god in heaven, if you can hear me, please don't let her be dead…_

 "Cas…Caska!" _…I'd give my life for her, hell, I thought I GAVE my life for her! Don't let it be in vain, oh dear lord above, don't let it be in vain…_

 "Cas…ka…" he whispered, his throat thick with tears.

As he was about to give up and maybe faint from the pain, he heard a soft rustling from over the rise, and hope rose in him again. Maybe it was just an animal, but maybe it was not.

 "H…Hey… Is there… any… b-body… there?"

The soft rustling stopped.

 "P…please… help me…" His voice was merely a croak now, but he put all the pleading he could muster into it.

And the rustling came closer!

He strained to see what would come over the rise, but his spirits fell when he saw the curious face of a brown and black dog peek over the edge.

_Just an animal… I'm finished._

The dog walked cautiously over to him and sniffed at his hand, which was laying outstretched on the ground in front of him, then whimpered softly and looked at his face.

 "Nice… doggy," Judeau whispered half-heartedly, "go… get help… OK?"

The dog looked at him and tilted its head to the side as if it was listening intently, then it turned back to the way it had come and began barking.

_Is it… actually…?_

And a short while later, he could distinctly hear heavy footsteps through the underbrush, soon followed by a raspy but clearly masculine voice:

 "What's all the noise about, Tail? What have you found?"

Judeau hardly dared to breathe, afraid that maybe he was just hallucinating and if he disturbed it, it would be gone.

_I'm… saved?_

The deep, raspy voice continued, sounding lightly strained as if its owner was climbing up a hill:

 "Tail, I swear, if this is another injured squirrel or bird or whatever other small, imperilled animal, I'm going to…" the tirade was cut short by a gasp, because now the voice's owner was standing on the top of the rise, and he and Judeau could see each other.

The owner of the voice was a stout, big man, with skin as brown as Caska's, but obviously not from birth; his skin was the sort of brown it would turn into when you spent too long periods of time outdoors and subjected to the elements, too often.

His hair was long, thick, unruly and grey, as was the beard that almost completely covered the top of his chest. He was dressed in loose, light brown leather pants, sturdy and very well used leather boots, a vest in the same material, and a fur cloak.

His build was heavy, yet somehow wiry – at first glance he looked gnarled, like an old tree trunk – and though he looked old, there was no mistaking that he was absolutely not weak.

To Judeau, the man looked exactly like a 'wild man'; a spirit of the forest, just like in the fairy-tales he had so enjoyed as a child. 

The man came jogging down towards him now, and his expression was one of worry and stress.

_I'm saved!_

 "Good… dog," Judeau managed to croak out, before he finally fainted.

*

He awoke to horrible pain. It felt as though the whip-demon had returned and was squeezing the life out of him. All he could do was gasp breathlessly.

 "I know, I know…" It was the raspy voice from before. "…you'll soon get to rest again."

Judeau vaguely felt that he was pulled up into a sitting position, and that was what was causing the incredible pain.

 "Here we go…" A smooth surface was pressed to his lower lip, and he got a mouthful of something warm that he swallowed before the taste hit him. It was the most awful thing he had ever tasted! He tried to convey his dislike by grimacing and sticking his tongue out, but that only earned him another mouthful.

He tried to spit it out, but found that he couldn't: apparently the wild man was cradling his head in the crook of his arm and was using his hand to cover Judeau's nose. There was no choice but to keep swallowing the vile broth.

 "Yeah, yeah, I know what it tastes like. Making faces isn't going to make you better, though," the wild man said and, even in his weakened state, Judeau had to agree that that sounded reasonable.

It seemed to take forever to finish the brew, but finally the wild man was satisfied and allowed Judeau to slip back into a laying position and pass out again.

*

He had no idea of how much time passed like that, with him passing in and out of consciousness, being forced to drink one concoction after the other, each tasting no better than the first. But finally, after a very uncertain period of time, he awoke on his own with only a dull, throbbing ache in his torso and a funny smell in his nose.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring right into the face of the brown and black dog, who immediately began licking his face, whimpering happily.

 "Umpf… good dog, good dog… cut it out!" His voice still sounded weak, but he realised to his delight that it was more from disuse than from broken lungs and ribs.

He tried to lift his arm to push the dog away, but understood as soon as he made the move that the limb was not properly healed yet. A groan escaped his lips, and then the dog was pulled aside by the 'wild man'.

 "I see you're awake. Good. You're making progress; now I can confidently say that you'll live."

Judeau looked down on himself and found that he was laying on his back on a straw mattress (and he couldn't help but notice that some of the straw was stained with blood), his torso covered in bandages, and so was his right arm, which was also being kept straight by two planks.

 "You've saved my life," he croaked out, "I am forever grateful."

The wild man gave an annoyed grunt.

 "You should be. I've never had to work so hard on one man before. You've been out for four days."

 "Four days?" Judeau gasped, and then a thought struck him: "What about the others?"

The wild man frowned. "What others?"

 "M… my friends… they were with me when the demons attacked… All of them can't have been killed!" His heart was beating rapidly, and he felt himself break out in a sweat. _I CAN'T be the only survivor! Not me! At the very least, Gatts must have survived as well!_

But the wild man sighed and a shadow of sadness passed over his features.

 "I know you had friends with you, 'cause you've been calling for them in your fever-dreams… but I've been looking for them, boy. They're not here."

Judeau felt himself begin to tremble, but couldn't stop listening to the wild man.

 "Also… I know that you were attacked by demons, but if I hadn't seen the nature of your wounds, I would never have believed it. Demons are very rare and often leave traces of their presence. I found no indication that there has been a demon in these woods for at least ten years." The wild man sat down on the side of Judeau's bed and gave him a serious look.

 "I don't really know if you're strong enough to know this yet, but I've started talking now, and I'm not going to leave you with half the story. I'm sorry if what I have to say will cause you shock." He paused for a moment and looked away.

 "You've been saying many things while the infections and fevers lasted. Many times, you've mentioned things I've never heard about. Most of it can probably be explained by the fact that I live all by myself in the middle of the forest and I can't, and don't, keep up with politics and wars, but… you've mentioned an eclipse, several times." He looked down at Judeau, clearly expecting a reply.

 "Y… yes…" he managed to utter, unable to look away from the wild man and his compelling gaze, "…there was an eclipse when the demons appeared."

 "And they began attacking you right away?"

Memories of the horrible slaughter filled his mind, and he felt one tear escape his eye.

 "Y… yeah… right after Griffith…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

 "I know that your leader betrayed you. You said that many times. I wouldn't forgive him either."

Somehow, he felt comforted by that. _It is… okay to hate him, then._

The wild man sighed again.

 "All right, here it goes… there haven't been an eclipse here for many, many years. Wherever you started out, it wasn't here. I don't think you come from this world." The man leaned back with a 'there, I said it' look on his face.

Judeau's mind hit a wall; this was too much to just accept outright.

 "But… but that can't be… how could that… be possible?"

The wild man frowned.

 "I know it seems impossible, but I know my heaven. If you got wounded during an eclipse, this must either have happened very far away from these woods, or a very long time ago. Either way, you would have been very, very dead before you could possibly have gotten all the way to me. This is the only solution I can think of and it also explains the lack of demon-traces, and the whereabouts of your friends: they're still in their own world."

Judeau's head was spinning now. He felt weak and about to faint.

 "But… but how? …Why me?" was all he managed to croak out.

 "I don't know, boy." The wild man's voice was tinted with compassion and regret. "I don't know much about demons, except the fact that they are from another place. Another world. Someone once told me that their very presence causes …rifts… in reality…" he sighed, "As strange and far-fetched as this may sound, it is the most plausible explanation: The high concentration of demon power where you were, caused a disturbance through reality that somehow brought you here. It's either that, or a god sent you here to fulfil some kind of purpose for him." The wild man shrugged. "But I can see that this is upsetting you, so just forget it for now. I'm sure your friends are all right, and you need rest. Here, drink this."

The wild man helped him to sit up and offered him a bowl, which Judeau took with a suspicious glare.

 "Don't worry." The wild man said with a wolfish grin. "That's not a healing brew, so it won't taste like troll liver and old shoes. It's just a nourishing soup that will help you to sleep."

 Judeau gave him an uncertain look, but took a sip from the bowl anyway - and found the taste very much to his liking. He felt that the soup was finished almost before he started it and looked disappointedly into the emptied bowl.

Almost immediately a warm, fuzzy feeling began spreading outwards from his abdomen, and he felt his worry and fear begin to fade, giving place to a comfortable tiredness.

 "That'll be all for now, you'll get another bowl in the evening. We've got to be careful with your internal organs for a little while, so don't look so long-faced, boy, it's for your own good." The man carefully lowered Judeau back down onto the bed, took the bowl from his hand and stood.

 "Judeau."

 "Hm?" 

 "My name is Judeau," he murmured absently, as he looked around at the room for the first time. It was rather small, with timbered walls and a fireplace against the wall opposing his bed. There were two doors leading out of this room, and one of them had that robust look that usually meant it lead to the outdoors. The room was sparsely decorated; on one wall hung a lot of skins from different animals, and there was a sturdy wooden table next to the front door with a large variety of small bags and dried plants on it, mixed in with a few hand-carved animal figurines.

On a large fur mat in front of the fireplace laid two dogs, one of them was the brown and black one; the other was greyish-brown and looked a lot more like a wolf than the first.

 "Judeau, huh?" said the wild man, as he walked off into the adjoining room. Judeau could hear him put the bowl down and begin to tinker with something. "My name is Shammael, this is my humble abode, and the two lazy bums on the floor are two of my dogs, Tail and Paw. Tail's the one who found you, if you can remember that."

The brown and black dog jumped up from his place on the floor when he heard his name and, after giving Judeau a couple of happy licks in the face, trotted after his master. The wolf-like one merely sighed and changed its position on the mat.

 "Yes…" Judeau yawned, "I remember…" That pleasant warmth had completely overtaken him now, and he no longer felt worried on behalf of his comrades. They were surely all right, just as the wild… no, as _Shammael_ had said, and so what if he was in a different world? With Griffith gone insane and Caska together with Gatts, what did he really have in that other place? The Band of the Hawk was dead, and all his friends would scatter to the winds… those of them that had survived.

Maybe just as well to begin anew…

A second chance… at life… at happiness…

Maybe it was just as well…

When Shammael returned to the main room, Judeau was already fast asleep, with a slight, peaceful smile on his lips. The old man regarded the younger one for a while, absent-mindedly running his rough hand over Tail's head and ears, eliciting happy whimpers and much squirming from the energetic dog. Finally, Shammael heaved a sigh and looked down at a small leather pouch in the palm of his hand.

"I'm sorry, boy," he mumbled. "I hope you'll understand."

-*--*-

How do you like this chapter? If you have an opinion, I want it! ^_^

Thanks to Berzerkerprime, puaena and of course Drachen who reviewed and made my day brighter!

**!!!** Thanks again to White_Aster for many good points and, of course, for catching the few bugs that my spell/grammar check didn't. *bows* Thank you!


	3. In the Hands Of the Healer

Hum, hum… no matter how I do, this chapter still feels sketchy. I guess that's what I get for trying to press the events of almost two months into one chapter. I'm not trying to rush this story ahead, I want it to take the time it needs to develop properly, but this felt like the best way to move it along.

I may be wrong.

This chapter will most likely be subject to change, later. 

I don't own Berserk, but I do own Shammael and his dogs. Wanna buy 'em?

-*--*-

Chapter three: In the hands of the Healer.

For two weeks Judeau remained in bed, mostly living on soup and foul-tasting healing potions, as he was gradually introduced to solid foods. First as bread soaked in the soup, then as porridge with bread on the side, and so on.

Even though there were many uncomfortable things about being bed-ridden like this, none was quite as unpleasant as having his bandages changed. The first time that Shammael had removed the bindings and Judeau had been awake to know it, he had not been able to keep from crying out when the bandages caught in the stitches and the dried blood. He also had to sit up while this was being done, which didn't agree well with his sore ribs.

But the worst part was probably what he saw when he looked down on himself without the bandages on. Judeau could hardly believe that he had actually survived when he looked at the carefully stitched-up wounds, edged with dried blood, and the large, purplish-blue blotches around them.

Though, it did help him to understand where the pain was coming from.

-

One of these nights, when he felt exceptionally sore and just couldn't go to sleep, Judeau decided to attempt to find every individual wound's location. He had nothing better to do, after all. After feeling and fidgeting for a while he had most of them nailed down: the worst wounds were the ones the whip-demon had left on his back, if one didn't take his right arm into account, which was so badly mangled that he counted the whole limb as a single wound. 

Damn those demons! Damn them all to hell, and may they take Griffith with them and torture his soul for eternity! He had willingly and knowingly branded the Hawks as demon sacrifices. Was that how he rewarded their faith and loyalty to him? How could he? How _dared_ he?!

With a serious effort, Judeau brought his left hand up to his face to glare menacingly at the demonic brand… and discovered to his great surprise that it was not there. He turned his hand over and flexed his fingers, but there was no mistaking; the pale, blue moonlight shone on the unbroken skin of his palm. Perplexed, he decided to ask Shammael about it in the morning.

Morning came, and still his palm looked the same. No brand, not even a scratch. When the old man brought him breakfast Judeau asked about it, but got the harsh reply that Shammael had never seen any kind of mark on either hand, and he was told to just be happy that it wouldn't be another scar to worry about.

Judeau still felt that the disappearance of the brand was important, somehow, but spoke no more of it.

-

Occasionally, he had some pangs of grief and loss when he thought about his comrades and friends, and that, if he really was in a different world, he would most likely never see them again… if any of them were still alive. But he had always been the one who could keep a positive view on things, and he was starting to accept their absence.

He figured that, if he didn't know what had actually happened to them, why not suppose the best instead of the worst? Maybe a lot of them had survived, maybe they were happy, and maybe they had formed a new band with Gatts, Caska or maybe even Corkus as leader.

And maybe not, but since he didn't know for sure, he opted for the first and gradually began to worry less about them.

It felt somewhat comforting that his loss wasn't tearing him apart quite as much as he'd thought it would. Maybe it _was _possible to live without being a Hawk, after all.

-

While he was bed-ridden, Judeau learned more about Shammael and his dogs; The man was a so-called Healer, which meant that he could both stitch people up like a field surgeon, find herbs and cook up healing potions like a wise woman and also that the man had a mystic gift; a power of the mind that almost worked as magic – which, Judeau learnt, was very real in this new world – only much more specialised: He could heal internal damage using the force of his mind.

When Judeau asked him how that had come to be, Shammael had replied that it was his birthright. He had been born a Healer; it was rare, but happened occasionally.

He had three dogs that he had named Tail, Paw and Muzzle, and Judeau found them all likeable, each in its different way.

Tail was absolutely the most social of them, possibly the most social dog Judeau had ever met. He loved everybody and everything and usually wagged his slim, whip-like tail so hard that his whole body wagged along with it. He had the strange habit of bringing small, wounded animals to the house, where he would put them in Shammael's or Judeau's lap and whine sadly, waiting for someone to heal it. This was cute, but it made him a very bad hunting-dog.

The hunting-dog in the group was definitely Paw. Slightly smaller than Tail, but much more muscular, there was no mistaking of the wolf-hybrid in him. His eyes were yellow and shone with almost human intelligence, and where Tail's coat was short, smooth and glossy, Paw's was thick and shaggy. He was also the undisputed leader of the dogs, stronger than Tail and faster and smarter than Muzzle.

Not that it was very hard to be smarter than Muzzle. The third dog was a huge, lumbering beast, its shoulders easily reaching up to Judeau's hips if he were to stand next to it, and muscular enough to be the canine answer to Pippin, the Band of the Hawk's resident giant.

But Muzzle's mind wasn't quite as grand as his body. The big dog wasn't allowed in the house, because he didn't really know how big he was and always ended up breaking something or accidentally sitting on one of the other dogs.

He was also that kind of dog who would chase his tail, catch it, bite down real hard, howl in pain and then growl angrily at the tail and begin to chase it again. But if you didn't know him, his hulking, black and ragged appearance could be quite terrifying.

-

After these long, tiresome two weeks in bed, Shammael decided that it was time for Judeau to begin to walk again, but the first week of progress was spent indoors, limping around in the room supported on the Healer's shoulders, for short periods of time with a lot of rest in between. Judeau felt a little ashamed at the way his body had weakened so much, so fast, but the Healer reassured him that it was exactly what could be expected, and that with some training he would be fully restored.

One day, Shammael came in with a pair of crutches and grudgingly announced that he was sick and tired of hoisting Judeau around, and that he would now be able to get things for himself when he needed them.

Judeau was getting used to the old mans grumpy attitude, and thanked him very much for crafting the crutches for him. Soon he was hopping around the house, and even out into what Shammael referred to as the 'garden'.

The house was small but sturdily built and timbered, with two rooms, one of which was the main room where Judeau still spent his nights, the other a combined kitchen/sleeping area, where Shammael slept if he, like now, had a guest or a very ill patient.

Outdoors the forest was almost immediately at the door, but in the small glade outside the kitchen, the Healer grew vegetables and some herbs on a very tidy little patch of earth.

In a nearby stable stood a cow, and two horses grazed in a surprisingly green forest-glade-turned-pasture a little bit off. The cow was called Emma, and the two horses were aptly named Blaise and Sock.

-

Time passed and a month later Shammael had removed the stitches, and Judeau could move without the crutches, even if he still had to be a little careful. He was nonetheless amazed at how fast the healing process had been; he could even use his right arm again, nevermind that it was yet sore and a little bit stiff.

The big, purple blotches were all gone, but the scars were still angrily red and tender. The Healer explained to him that wounds inflicted by a demon were extraordinarily hard to heal and left scars that never faded away completely. That was OK, though. Judeau felt that wounds of that size _should_ leave some scars; it would have felt rather strange otherwise.

Shammael told him that he'd better start providing for himself and that he couldn't expect the Healer to do all the hard work, so he was to come along on the hunting trips from now on. It turned out to be very good exercise, and Judeau felt himself slowly begin to regain what he'd lost. And also, he felt a little useful again. It was a nice feeling, when he brought home his first kill, that he was able to give a little back to the Healer, after all that the man had done for him.

-

It was at about that time that Shammael made an announcement.

"I shall be going to the Great City in a week or two. I think you should come, too," he said as they sat down in front of the fire to eat supper one evening.

"The great city? Why do you need to go there?" Judeau asked, at the same time slightly surprised that this place had great cities, and a little bit excited at the prospect of seeing people again.

"There are some things I can't make for myself, I need a new axe-head, a new pair of boots, repair my old crossbow and some other stuff. The best and only place within reasonable distance to get all that I need is in the Great City, the capital of this land."

"You call your capital the Great City?"

"Yes. If you come along, you'll see why."

They sat in thoughtful silence for a while.

"I would like to go with you, and see the city," Judeau finally said.

"I thought you would," Shammael replied, and that was that.

* 

So one week later, Judeau found himself on the back of a horse once again. On Sock, to be more precise, as he rode through the forest following the Healer, who was mounted on Blaise and trailed by the three dogs, towards the Great City of this land, which, as Judeau finally found out, was called Ducarron. With them they had skins and herbs that the healer would sell, as well as a fold-up tent and other items for sleeping outside, since the journey would take them about a week to finish.

Said journey was generally dreadful for Judeau. Riding, even at a slow pace, hurt like hell for the first three days, and for five days out of seven it rained heavily - but only after they had left the protective roof of the forest, of course.

The plain they rode on for the rest of the trip seemed to stretch on endlessly, and there were no roads to speak of, nor any villages as far as he could see. 

_It seems I have come to a very desolate world, so far,_ he mused as he rode through the pouring rain, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs.

- 

But on the morning of the seventh day, he got his first glimpse of the Great City through the waning rain. At first it looked like a strangely shaped mountain, but as they got closer he began to see the sun glinting off of it in strange places, and soon he noticed white towers, fighting for attention with great, light blue cupolas. By noon, the Great city stood before them in all its awesome glory, and it was undoubtedly one of the greatest achievements of man that Judeau had ever seen.

The Great City was built like a single, gigantic palace that could easily have fitted the entirety of the Midland army comfortably, still have room for the Chuda knights, and enough space left for them to wage battles on each other.

Great, gleaming towers reached for the sky, enormous cupolas laid like well-fed house cats lapping up the sun, walkways and bridges spanned from tower to balcony, from balcony to staircase, and from staircase to other walkway.

And yet Judeau could only see the outside of it, like the top of an ant-house - and like an ant-house, the Great City was _teeming_ with life.

As they entered what felt like the Great City's shadow, Judeau saw two things: the first was that the city did not end where the colossal structure ended; hundreds of small, separate houses stood on the plain and appeared to Judeau as if they were shyly huddled against the shining giant in their midst, like dirty children around a saintly mother. 

The other thing he saw was that the city was sitting on the edge of a very large canyon that stretched out from horizon to horizon as far as Judeau could see, and was almost as wide as the berth of the enormous City, itself.

_If their enemy should come from that direction, this place has a really good tactical position,_ Judeau thought and smiled at himself for still thinking like a soldier.

- 

They rode through the outer city, which mostly seemed like a permanent gathering place for merchants as far as Judeau could tell. There was a constant din of voices, sometimes punctured by a shout from some merchant with exceptionally good lungs, and Judeau found that he actually felt better by all these sounds and the presence of the people – but couldn't help noticing how Shammael seemed all the more irked as they rode deeper into the milling throng.

Finally, they stopped at a large area, crowded with tents of different sizes and colours, and Shammael tied the horses to a pole sticking out of the ground, apparently meant for that use.

"OK, here's where I stay. Hand me those skins and the tent."

Judeau obliged, and helped the Healer set up the tent and hang up the skins and herbs inside it. He found it increasingly difficult to focus on the job, though, as enticing smells and interesting sights constantly assaulted his senses.

"Do you want to go and have a look around?" Shammael's tone was polite, but in a slightly strained way. Judeau nonetheless jumped and grinned guiltily.

"Yes, I would. I just wish I had some money so I could buy some decent clothes…" He pulled his borrowed cloak tighter around himself. When the Healer had found him he had had nothing with him but the clothes on his body and his wrecked armour, so he was wearing one of Shammael's shirts (his own was bloodied and torn beyond repair) as well as a cloak, both of which were several numbers too big for him.

He had been able to save his own trousers, though. He had had to scrub them for hours, but he had got the bloodstains out – and his boots were still in prime condition.

"What?" Shammael frowned teasingly and pulled at the sleeve of the borrowed shirt. "These aren't good enough for you? I'd wear them, myself!"

"Yes…" Judeau smiled back. "And that's exactly where the problem lies."

Shammael shook a finger at him in mock warning. "Oh, you watch that tongue of yours, boy, 'r else I rip it out for you!" Then he gave a little sigh and untied a purse from his belt. "Here, take this. It's not much, but it's all I can spare."

Judeau looked at the Healer, once again astonished by the kindness of this grumpy old man, who had done so much for him already.

"I couldn't possibly take that money. You need it for yourself."

"Dammit, boy! I didn't ask you if you could take it or not, I told you to take it!" The Healer pressed the purse into Judeau's hands with a scowl.

"Shammael…" Judeau held the purse out for the old man to take it back. "Please, you have done so much more than you've had to for me. You saved my life, you've fed me and taken care of me. Please don't deepen my debt to you." The Healer huffed and made no move to take the purse, so Judeau continued, with his most winning smile:

"Did I ever tell you that I used to work as a travelling performer once? I still know all the tricks. I can earn my own money by entertaining bypassers, just like the other performers we've seen here."

Shammael regarded Judeau for a little while, then he cleared his throat and reached for the purse, but instead of taking it, he pressed it into Judeau's hands once more, and when he spoke, his voice was oddly thick:

"Do your tricks, earn your own money, but take these coins as a gift… from a friend. You've been a very pleasant company, boy. I know I may not have made it seem that way always, but I want you to know that it felt good to have another human being in the house again. I… I like isolation, and I feel bad among the crowds, but sometimes… the loneliness can get to me too. Despite the dogs." The last was said with a slight smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and somehow made him seem even older. "However…" he continued, "I know you won't stay with me in the forest. You can't. You're a city person; this is where you belong. Where things happen and people mill about." He let Judeau's hands go, and with them the purse. Then he turned away and spoke quietly, as if to the universe at large:

"Maybe I should get me an apprentice this year. I always say that I'm going to, but I never actually get to it. I can't let all my knowledge die with me, and I'm really not getting any younger…"

Judeau stood still, holding the purse, surprised at hearing so many words at once from the usually so quiet Healer. He then tied the purse to his own belt and laid a hand on the old man's shoulder.

"Do that. You'd be a great teacher, and your apprentice would become a great asset to the world."

Shammael smiled at him again and placed his big hand on Judeau's shoulder.

"Good bye… Judeau. And good luck."

"Thank you, Shammael, and I wish you the same."

With that, they shook hands, and Judeau took the sack with his ruined armour in it, and left.

-*--*-

This is chapter three, and the fun has just begun… any opinions? Hit the review button and let me have it. ;)

Thank you Hott, for your review! ^_^ I give you my word that I will commit seppuku out of disgrace if this turns into a Mary-Sue. 

**!!!** A great big happy smiley-face and many grateful bows to White_Aster for good, thought-worthy criticism that made this chapter a lot better, and has me thinking of new and exciting ways to improve it!


	4. Strange Meetings

OK, here it is: Chapter four. It is looong, and about as good as it can get right now… and I'm introducing some new original characters here, but bear with me – I have a plan with almost everything I do. *Muahahaaa…* )

Don't own Berserk, don't have money, don't sue.

-*--*-

Chapter four: Strange meetings.

For a long while, Judeau had just wandered through the crowds, taking in all the strange sights and sizing up the other performers. They had been of a wide range, some sticking to the old pea-and-cup game, some sorely failing to make funny jokes, and some so acrobatic or so talented that they could very well have performed at a court.

Finally, though, he had decided to find a calm place to sit down and see how much money he'd been given, but found no such place in the outer city and had therefore decided to go inside.

He had passed through one of the unquestionably largest gates he'd ever seen before, where he had been stopped by ten ornately armoured soldiers. They'd asked him if he brought any weapons and if so, to leave them in their care, but of course he hadn't, and had told them as much. They had let him pass without further questions.

The great city was as grand and impressive on the inside as its outside let on: Each merchant had his own shop, the streets were patrolled by the same kind of white-and-gold armoured soldiers as the gate-watchers had been, and it was surprisingly clean for being as intensely populated as it was. The people in here were a bit better dressed and the wares were of a generally higher quality, but even though it was not quite as noisy in these huge halls as it had been on the outside, the crowds were just as big.

Every turn and square was decorated with statues, frescoes and fountains, as well as ornate signs that told the name of the street one was walking on. Every side-street was a new impression, every shop-window a new distraction, and after having lived with Shammael in the forest for well over a month, Judeau actually felt that the Great City was a little bit too much to take in all at once. He had spotted a sign with the word 'Inn' on it, and retreated through that door.

And there was where he was now. Fortunately, the inn looked exactly as he had expected, and the atmosphere was at a typical middle-of-the-day low. He sat down at a table by the door, took a deep breath and leaned back to think a little.

_I need a plan. I need to figure out how to live in this world and… what I want to do with my life…_ He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. _Oh god, I have to start all over again. From scratch._

His line of thought was interrupted by the approach of a barmaid.

 "Can I get you anything?" she said, smiling as she stopped beside him.

 "Well, actually, I could use a little help…" Judeau picked up the pouch and opened it to show her its insides, "How much is this, and what can I get for it?"

She gave him a curious glance, "You don't know how much money you have?"

 "Um…" telling the truth would maybe not be the best idea, he thought. At best, she wouldn't believe him, but at worst she would be insulted and get some men to throw him out; he'd seen that happen before. He tried a winning smile, thought fast, and lied.

 "…I'm new in this city, travelling with a small group of performers… We've never been here in Ducarron before, and, well, our leader always hogs all the money to himself and never tells us how much we've earned. I've …borrowed… a little piece of my share, but of course the boss hasn't told us what this currency is worth either, so… no, I don't." Shammael had said something about there being several countries, right? He hoped they all had different currencies, too, otherwise he'd just got himself into a much deeper mess.

To his relief, however, she seemed to accept his story. "That group doesn't sound like a very good one, to me. You should leave that boss of yours."

His smile widened, and he dared to elaborate the lie a little. "I might… but if you see a big, burly man with coarse, black hair, and he asks for me…"

She grinned back at him. "…You're not here, and you've never been here, right? I can do that… but only because you're so cute, of course."

 "Of course," he laughed, and inwardly breathed out.

 "Let's see then, what you got…" She bent down, perhaps a bit further than she needed to, to see into the pouch, and gave him an unexpected view of her cleavage as she carefully poked around in the money, humming and counting a little. Surprised, Judeau quickly looked away and kept his eyes on her fingers instead.

 "Well, that's ten silver Crowns. For that you can get…" She stood for a moment in thought, trailing a finger over her pursed lips. "At this inn, ten Crowns will get you one night in the finest room, with expensive supper and breakfast included, as well as company for the night…" She winked at him. "…or if you stay in an ordinary room, eat the ordinary food and don't drink too much, you could live here for a week."

Judeau finally realised that she was flirting with him, and smiled at his own slowness. _Has it really been so long since I last stayed in a city? Since I last talked to an available woman?_

He spent a short moment contemplating how he felt about it. She was quite pretty, with large, brown eyes, long curly hair of a deep auburn colour, heart-shaped face, full lips and a body of the more curvaceous sort. She noticed his glance and gave him a small, teasing smile as she very deliberately placed her hands on her hips to accentuate them.

Yes, she was pretty, and it wasn't as if he hadn't missed the 'company' of a woman for about… well, over a year now, but… no. He had too much to think about and didn't want, nor really needed, a distraction right now.

He turned his smile as polite as he could.

 "And if I wanted to buy, say… clothes?" he asked, deciding to keep on track and find out the proper value of the money.

A hint of disappointment showed in her face, and a little sigh escaped her before she straightened up and put her polite smile on.

 "Nothing fancy, that's for sure, but you'd get a better fitting shirt of about the same quality as the one you're wearing now… or a pair of really nice socks…" She shrugged.

 "Weapons?"

She giggled cutely and shook her head. "Not a chance. Maybe a used, rusty dagger, tops. Steel is rare here in Ducarron."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Thank you for your help."

 "You're welcome. So, do you want to order something?"

He looked up at her and smiled. "Yes, thank you, I think I'll have an ale."

 "Coming right up, that'll be three copper Thrones… which means you give me a Crown, and I give you seven Thrones. I'll be right back…" She turned to leave, but over her shoulder she gave him a smile and a wink. "…Cutie." 

He couldn't stop himself from smiling at that, but when she had gone his seriousness returned and he started thinking again. 

_OK, this money is not enough. I need a job._

_I can always work as a performer; do some tricks, sing or play - I wonder what a lute would cost - but I am first and foremost a soldier. I've been one for most of my life, and it's what I'm good at._

_So, plan: First, I find out if there are any mercenary companies that are hiring, and if so, if they require one to buy their own equipment. If that is the case, or if there are no mercenary companies here, I can try to join a band of entertainers instead… I don't think I want to join the local army, I mean, the armours are nice, but I don't know the political situation of anywhere in this place, and that is kind of not good. Armies require loyalty, and I need to know what I am to be loyal to._

_…Yes, that's what I'll do! But first, I buy myself a new shirt._

Pleased to have made a decision, Judeau leaned back and smiled politely at the barmaid as she returned with his ale and change-money. She winked at him again, but left without further flirting.

Judeau reached for the jug, intending to celebrate his deal with himself with a good swig, but was utterly startled when it was snatched away right under his hand.

Astonished, he gaped at the very short, extremely muscular and completely bald man, who now held his jug and was taking deep draughts from it.

 "Excuse me…!"

The short man ignored him, but lowered the jug and made a face as if he'd just drunk one of Shammael's more putrid potions.

 "Tastes like elf piss!" he proclaimed in a very deep, booming voice, and then the jug was snatched away from him too, by another man of equal height, build and baldness.

The second short man also took several draughts before slamming the now empty jug back down on the table before Judeau, and proclaimed in an only slightly more melodious voice:

 "Yes! Tastes like watered squirrel-spit!"

Judeau looked from his emptied jug to the two grimacing, short men.

 "Pardon _me_!" he finally exclaimed, "That was mine! I was going to drink it!"

The first man, who was wearing very heavy armour, finally noticed him and gave him a rude glare before replying:

 "Then we did you a favour, manling!"

Taken aback, Judeau sputtered, "But… but I paid for it!"

The other, more lightly armoured man shook his head and made another face.

 "You _really_ shouldn't have."

Judeau found himself rendered uncharacteristically speechless by the blatant rudeness of these men, and just gaped at them for a moment before a coin landed on the table in front of him.

 "Does that cover your expenses?" The words were spoken calmly and with an indifferent air, by a voice at once masculine, and soft. Judeau turned his head and half expected to look up into Griffith's blue, confident eyes, but met a gaze as grey and cold as steel.

The man to whom the voice and the eyes belonged to was tall and well muscled, yet somehow also managed to look slim and agile. He was wearing a very beautiful suit of armour, obviously crafted with great care and tastefully adorned, which only accentuated his regal bearing. Again, Judeau found himself bereft of words – but he noticed, reflexively, that this regal, impressive-looking man had no eyebrows. The ever-present little scout in the back of Judeau's mind wondered casually if this man was as bald as the other two and, if so, what that might mean.

The first short man, the one with the heavy armour, spoke up angrily at the tall man:

 "What do you think you're doing, you stupid tree-fondler?"

 "I'm paying this man for the ale you so rudely drank for him," the tall man replied, apparently unfazed.

 "What? You just go around throwing money at complete strangers like that? Just how much of an idiot are you?"

 "Slightly less of one, then someone who steals ale from complete strangers, I believe."

The short man bristled and begun turning an interesting shade of red.

 "I – did – not – steal – anything! I was going to pay him back!"

The tall man lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, then I apologise."

Judeau stared at the argument, dumbfounded, then looked down at the coin on the table. It was a silver Crown. He took it and tried to get the tall man's attention:

 "Excuse me…"

The tall man immediately ignored the short one and turned his attention on Judeau.

 "Yes?"

 "This is much more than I paid for the ale…"

The tall man shrugged, "Keep it. I have more than I need."

The short man turned some even more interesting shades of red before shouting something that sounded like 'GRAH!', turned on his heel and stomped off towards the bar. The other short man buried his face in his palm and announced: "I'm going to get drunk," before following the first. The tall man remained standing, surveying the room with a raptor gaze, and the few people who were sitting at the other tables quickly decided that the spectacle was over, and busied themselves with something else.

 "Sit down, Steelwing. Please."

Judeau jumped at the new voice behind him and spun in his seat, anticipating some new kind of trouble.

The speaker was a woman of slightly more than average height, with black, shoulder length hair, light eyes and a build of body that spoke of a hard but healthy life, much like Caska's had been. But, unlike Caska, this woman's skin was as light as Judeau's own. When he had jumped and turned she was also startled, but quickly recovered and smiled at him - and suddenly her whole complexion changed.

It wasn't that she was pretty, because she wasn't, and she wasn't exactly ugly either – she would have passed for average-looking, if it hadn't been for the faded scars on her nose, cheek- and jawbone, which formed an uneven and broken semicircle on one side of her face, giving it a slightly asymmetrical look. She had a weary and tired air about her, but when she smiled her whole face lit up and her eyes sparkled, as though she smiled with all her being instead of just the muscles in her face. It was the most sincere smile Judeau had ever seen, and it was very infectious: he felt his own lips curl upwards at the edges in response.

 "I'm sorry to startle you, sir." She smiled and pointed at the empty seat beside him. "Mind if I sit down?"

 "Not at all." He smiled back, calmed by her politeness, and gestured at the chair.

 "Thank you." She sat down, and so did the tall man, but she almost immediately flew to her feet as an enraged roar tore through the air from the direction of the bar:

 "WHAAAT!!??"

Judeau also rose from his seat, as well as every other customer in the inn, and saw that the bellow had come from the heavily armoured short man, who was now standing on top of the bar, holding the terrified barkeep suspended in the air by his collar. Beside him, but still on the floor, the other short man stood perfectly still, fists clenched at his sides and trembling with barely controlled rage.

 "Holy heavenly crap on a stick…" the woman beside Judeau mumbled, and walked hastily towards the bar.

The short man hauled the barkeep up to the level of his face and growled, "Would you care to repeat that?"

The poor man stuttered, "But… but… but… I'm sorry, sir… g-g-guild regulations… s-say that we… we c-can't s-sell dwarf beer to… to non-dwarves…"

 "Are you blind as well as stupid, manling? I AM A DWARF!" he roared, and immediately everyone in the room froze, but for the short man, who continued, "Or are you so grievously insulting me as to say that I am not dwarfish enough to be one? Are you? ARE YOU SAYING I AM NOT A DWARF?"

The barkeep looked if possible even more terrified. "N-no, no, no, sir, master dwarf, sir, I j-just never saw a dwarf with no beard before! I-I was c-confused! Of- of course you'll get your beer, master dwarf, sir!"

The short man glared at the barkeep for a while longer, but then the scar-faced woman's hand landed softly on his shoulder.

 "Taskkarr," she said, in a voice meant to sound soothing, but Judeau easily noticed the undercurrent of nervousness in it. "Let the man go. You can't get your beer if you don't let him go and get it."

The self-proclaimed 'dwarf' snarled but soon let the barkeep tumble to the floor with a last disdainful snort.

 "Idiot." He jumped off the counter and leaned against it instead, next to the other short man, before he noticed the silence in the room.

He turned around, snarling and glaring menacingly at the stunned people.

 "And what are you lot staring at? Never seen a dwarf before?"

That seemed to snap everyone out of their shock, because suddenly nobody was looking at the two short men, and an embarrassed hum filled the room.

The woman leaned down beside the 'dwarf' and spoke with a silent, pleading voice, though Judeau could still hear her:

 "I know what you are going through, Taskkarr. I really do, but it is almost over now; we are closer than we have ever been before. Could you please try to control your temper for just a little longer? Please?"

The 'dwarf' gave her a withering glare and growled back,

 "I _am_ controlled, woman. You have not yet seen me uncontrolled!" But he turned back towards the bar and grabbed one of the large jugs that the barkeep had swiftly placed before him and the other man. Both of the short men proceeded to drink as if there was no tomorrow and they had a deep depression to forget about before then, and the woman exhaled quietly as she walked back to the table.

When they sat down again, she flashed Judeau a bright, apologetic smile.

 "I must apologise for the behaviour of my comrades, they have been quite on edge as of late."

 "We constantly have to apologise for them," said the tall man without looking up. Come to think of it, this man had remained sitting throughout the whole ordeal, and now he was carefully poking pebbles out of the sole of his shoe with a dagger. Unruffled, cold, nonchalant… It was making Judeau a little bit uneasy.

 "But where are my manners?" the woman smiled politely and extended her hand, "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Samina, pleased to meet you."

Happy for the distraction, Judeau smiled back and shook her hand. She had a warrior's grip, firm and direct, and he returned it as such.

 "The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure. My name is Judeau."

 "Steelwing," said the tall man and looked up from his shoe only long enough to grip Judeau's hand briefly.

 "Yes, well, unfortunately," Samina said with a quick glare at Steelwing, "none of my companions are very sociable people."

If the tall man noticed the jibe, he made no sign of it. She continued, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder,

 "Those two trouble-causing grumps by the bar are Taskkarr and Thirgynn, and they _are_ dwarves, despite their appearance."

 "Um… forgive me if my asking makes me seem stupid," Judeau ventured, "but… I have never met a 'dwarf' before… what is strange about them?"

The scar-faced woman stared at him for a while, with a small, uncertain are-you-joking smile on her face, but then she leaned towards him with narrowed eyes.

 "You… really don't know, do you?"

 "No," He answered honestly. "'Dwarf' to me means short, stunted person."

Samina threw a quick glance at the bar and then replied in a lowered voice, "I don't know where you're from, if you don't know about dwarves, but you are lucky that they don't have good hearing. Here's a free tip: never use the word 'short', and especially not 'stunted', in the same sentence as 'dwarf'. They won't like it."

Judeau was convinced by the seriousness of her voice and replied, more hushed, "Noted."

 "Good. I see you are as intelligent as you look." She smiled briefly, and then turned serious again. "All right, the thing about dwarves is, first of all, that they are not human – they are of an entirely different race that just happens to resemble us. Secondly, they all have a very …significant… hair growth, and they pride themselves in their beards. To them, it is the bond to their god and their honour; it's what marks them as dwarves. It is a terrible punishment for a dwarf to have it shaved off, since that means that he is no longer a dwarf and the god has turned away from him. They prefer the penalty of death to that of shaving."

 "Is that what has happened to them? Were they punished?" Judeau felt a little more sympathy for the two bald men now; if what this woman was saying was true, then they had every reason to be surly. But Samina shook her head and sighed tiredly.

 "No. It's worse than that." She nodded at the still shoe-poking Steelwing and continued, "You've noticed that Mr. Steelwing is also completely hairless?"

With a sigh, the tall man took a quick break in the close scrutiny of his sole and removed his ornate helmet so Judeau could see for sure that there was indeed not a single hair on his head, but he also noticed that the man's ears were unusually long and very pointy at the top. This piqued his curiosity, and he asked about it.

Once again he got that uncertain look from Samina, and even Steelwing himself looked up at him when she spoke.

 "He's an elf… you don't know about elves either?" She then shook her head as if to clear it and said decisively, "No, elves later, back to baldness." She sat in thought for a moment before continuing.

 "OK, besides being an elf, Mr. Steelwing is also a Crusader, and I am a bounty hunter, so I follow him on his lifelong quest to root out evil in all its forms. I do it to collect the money and the dwarves… well, they have their own reasons to fight alongside us, but we are all on a mission to 'get the bad guys', so to speak. Now, one of these 'bad guys' was a necromancer… a mage dedicated to the use of death-magic, with the power to wake the dead, animate corpses and other such unpleasant things. Necromancy is outlawed in most places, and this one was causing quite a ruckus among the local population of one such place, so we went to get him.

"Long story short: He was more powerful then we had anticipated, but we got him. Unfortunately, however, he used his last breath and every ounce of his power to cast a magical curse on us, 'to have all our hair fall out, all caves cave in behind us and bad weather to follow us wherever we went'. This, of course, was a very clever spell …for being thought out on the spot, with only thirty seconds of life left to act on… since dwarves, as well as deep-elves-" She pointed at Steelwing again. "-Live inside the mountains. The hair-thing was more meant for the dwarves, I think, and the weather for me."

Judeau frowned. "But you're not bald."

She suddenly looked a little uneasy, and hesitated before answering the unspoken question, "No, but I …am special. I have a Birthright, an unusual ability… It  …It saved me, so I wasn't cursed. The dwarves never really forgave me for that…" She fell silent as the aforementioned dwarves came trudging towards the table, one oversized jug in each hand, and sat down.

The one called Taskkarr glared at them.

 "What are you two mumbling about?"

 "I was telling Mr. Judeau here about our adventures and misfortunes."

 "Yes…" Judeau decided to dare an attempt at politeness. "I am sorry to hear about your curse."

 "Not as sorry as we were," sighed the one called Thirgynn into his beer. "But the worst part," he suddenly announced, "is that the bloody curse has been lifted!"

 "Yeah, I was just getting to that, but perhaps you would like to tell the story instead?" Samina suggested, and the dwarves immediately grabbed the opportunity by the throat.

 "Yes, just wait 'til you hear it!" Thirgynn rumbled, at the same time as Taskkarr growled, "Oh, I'll tell you about it!"

And they began the tale of their latest adventure. They spoke passionately and often at the same time as the other, about different things, and kept correcting each other, but Judeau still got the general picture:

In order to have the curse lifted, they had decided that the group should return an old and extremely valuable dwarf artefact to its rightful place in the High Church of Vontar, the dwarf god, hoping that he might choose to reward them by removing the curse.

So after fighting their way through guardians and enemies, nearly getting killed, saving each other's lives more times than both dwarves and elf cared to admit, as well as slaying an unspeakable creature whose description made Judeau vividly remember the demons of the eclipse, they'd finally returned with the artefact, but…

~

As the dwarves talked their frustration off, Samina couldn't help but feel a little guilty for using the strange man, Judeau, in this manner. But she needed someone else to take the blunt end of the dwarves for a little while, and they needed to vent their anger in some non-violent way. An opportunity had presented itself, and she'd taken it. What else could she reasonably have done? 

She dared a glance over at the blond man beside her, but found to her surprise that he was actually listening intently, sometimes even asking the dwarves to repeat themselves so he would understand better. This was so far from what she had expected that for a long time, all she could do was stare. 

_This man is becoming stranger and more interesting all the time…._

She gave him a second appraisal. His round face had a boyish look to it with large, round eyes, full lips (for a man), an easy smile and freckles on the rather large, round nose. His hair was long, blond and kept tied back in a ponytail, except for a loose bang on each side of his face, apparently too short to tie up.

That was where the boyish look ceased, though. He was of average height, maybe a touch taller than she was, and of normal build, but there was something fluid and alert in his motions which made Samina guess, with confidence, that he had received some kind of combat training, and most likely had experience with serious fighting. 

Another testament to that was the look she could see in the depth of his eyes. It was the look of a man who had seen a lot, perhaps more than he ever should have. She'd seen it before, mostly in the faces of war-weary soldiers, but in his eyes it seemed subtly different. She couldn't yet define how.

~

 "…So there we were," Taskkarr rumbled, "waiting right outside the entrance of the dwarf hold for Samina to come back out and tell us about Vontar's answer - since she was the only one who could enter the hold, because of the gods-damned curse! - And when she comes, she tells us that the God has spoken to her, _to her_, a _human_, just for _our_ sake, through the Prophet of the temple!"

Judeau was captivated by the story, in spite of Taskkarr's less-than-perfect storytelling abilities, and he leaned forward, listening intently.

 "So what did he say?"

 "He said," Thirgynn interrupted, "'for what you have done for me, I have rewarded you. The curse has been lifted.'"

 "Curs_es_," Samina corrected, "He said curses, and he also said 'even for the elf, who has fought very bravely. His name shall be remembered.'"

 "Well, that's great! …Wasn't it?" Judeau looked from face to face, but the dwarves just scowled and grunted. Finally Taskkarr growled angrily,

 "No. It would have been great if our beards had grown back out."

 "So… why didn't they? Wasn't the curse lifted after all?"

 "Oh, the curse is lifted, no doubt about that!" Thirgynn said, "Vontar would never say something and then not do it! Absolutely impossible! …Besides, I would have noticed if the magic of the curse still lingered."

 "All right… so what is wrong then?"

 "What's wrong is that we don't have any beards, manling! Haven't you been listening at all?" Taskkarr roared, and Judeau held his hands up in front of himself in a half calming, half protective gesture.

 "I meant, what is wrong with your beards; why do they not grow back?"

 "Oh. Right." Taskkarr looked away and seemed to lose some steam. Maybe there was even a touch of embarrassment that quickly passed over his face.

Thirgynn answered Judeau's question:

 "Well, the curse didn't just make the hair fall out, nor did it seal the follicles magically; it sort of _deactivated_ them, and as long as the magical resonance remains around us - not the spell, that is already gone - but the …um …after-image of it… rocks, how I hate trying to explain these things to a layman." He let out a sigh and rubbed his smooth chin with a large hand.

 "Please, do try," Judeau coaxed.

Thirgynn regarded him thoughtfully for a moment and then continued,

 "All right… you know how it's like when you're sitting in a dark room with a candle, and you look directly at the flame for a while? That afterwards, when you look away or you blow out the candle, you can still see the image of it wherever you look?"

Judeau nodded his agreement.

 "Well… It's the same thing about magic. Every spell, no matter how small, leaves an after-image that a mage or a miracle-worker as myself can detect if we concentrate correctly. It fades over time, but the bigger the spell, the longer it takes for the resonance… the after-image… to fade. Do you follow me?"

 "Yes, I think I understand. This is interesting."

Thirgynn actually looked pleased and, for the briefest of moments, Judeau thought he saw the prospect of a smile in the dwarf's eyes.

 "Good, good. Now, the curse that the corpse-kissing, rot-faced necrophiliac of a death-mage cast on us was a _very_ large spell. Its resonance will linger for years, and during that time our follicles won't re-activate. Not on their own. The force of so much magic directed immediately at them sort of 'shocked' them into paralysis, and the resonance keeps them there."

Judeau let out an empathic "Oh, no…" and he meant it. After hearing the dwarves talk for surely an hour he had come to understand them better, and especially how awfully deep their loss was. "I am so sorry to hear that…"

Thirgynn sighed and Taskkarr growled, and there was silence around the table for a while.

 "However," Samina's quiet voice interrupted the depressed mood, "there is a cure. That's why we're here in Ducarron." She smiled at the dwarves. "And we are almost there." This time, Thirgynn managed a weak smile, but Taskkarr only growled again:

 "I bet we have to ask a bloody elf for it. And they won't want to give it to us, just to spite us 'cause we're dwarves! And they'll laugh!"

 "You don't have to automatically assume the worst, Taskkarr," Samina said, frowning in annoyance.

 "And why not? Have I not had cause for it so far?" the dwarf grumpily replied.

 "Well, at some point it has to turn."

 "Really? I haven't seen any indication of that happening."

 "So…" Judeau decided to interrupt the argument, and he was also curious: "What is this cure?"

 "Some sissy-ass flower," Taskkarr immediately declared, but Samina sent him a glare and explained more closely,

 "There's an herb that grows only in the deep forests here in Ducarron. If it is prepared the right way, it has the ability to remove any magical resonance from a person. We're going to look for it."

Judeau blinked.

 "An herb? In the forest?"

 "Yes!" Taskkarr rumbled "in the gods-cursed, surely elf-infested, deep, dark, nasty forest, where I'll bet it grows in a cute little flower-pot in a tree where the elves can keep it out of reach from dwarves in need of it! _Just to annoy us_!"

Samina's eyes narrowed and she turned a very serious scowl at Taskkarr, but before she could vent her opinion on the dwarf's depressive attitude, Judeau interfered again.

 "I don't know about that, but I think I know someone who might."

He noted that he now had their undivided attention; even Steelwing put his boot back down on the floor and regarded him with an unreadable expression.

Taskkarr frowned. "Explain."

 "Well, I came to this city just today, in the company of a Healer I've been staying with for some time. He lives in a deep forest about a week's ride from here, and he knows herbs. I believe he could be of help to you."

Samina just gaped at him, Thirgynn frowned as if unsure whether or not he'd heard right and Steelwing remained impassive, but Taskkarr was immediately suspicious:

 "Is he an elf? I bet he's an elf. He is, isn't he?"

Judeau thoughtfully paused before shrugging.

 "I don't know. All I can say that I'm sure of, is that he doesn't have pointy ears."

Samina shook her head incredulously and whispered, "Of all the luck…" and Thirgynn downed the remains of his beer and rose from his chair.

 "So what are we waiting for, then? Let's go see this Healer!"

 "Or at least see if he really exists…" Taskkarr grumbled, but finished his beer and stood up as well.

Samina leaned closer to Judeau.

 "Can you really take us to him right now? Otherwise you'll leave me with two very grumpy dwarves…"

He smiled confidently at her. "Yes, I can." He rose, followed by Steelwing and Samina. "Let's go."

 "Wait!" It was Taskkarr. The bald dwarf had his arms crossed over his massive chest and he locked a serious gaze on Judeau. "First… what did you pay for your beer, manling?"

 "Pardon?"

 "What did you pay for the beer?" Taskkarr growled impatiently and pointed at the empty jug on the table.

 "Uh… three copper Thrones, Mr. Taskkarr…?"

The dwarf shoved a hand inside his armour and pulled out a purse from which he withdrew three small copper coins before hiding it again. He then put the coins on the table in front of Judeau with a loud slap of his hand.

 "There. Now we're even."

 "But…" Judeau confusedly pointed at Steelwing. "…Mr. Steelwing has already…"

 "I DON'T CARE what that pointy-eared flowergirl does with his own money!" Taskkarr growled and made Steelwing raise both eyebrows at the insult, "but he's NOT stealing MY debts! A dwarf who can not repay his own debts is either dead, or not a dwarf at all!"

Judeau stared at Taskkarr for a moment and then he tentatively reached out and scooped up the money. The dwarf's frown eased.

 "Good. No more debt between us."

 "No more debt between us." Judeau echoed, and noticed Samina's appreciating smile, as well as Steelwing and Thirgynn's barely perceptive nods. He felt as though he had just passed a great test, possibly with flying colours. 

With a smile to Taskkarr, he let the three coins fall into his purse, picked up his sack and walked over to the tavern door.

 "Are you coming?"

-*--*-

There, how was that? Interesting? Annoying? Fun? Painful? Brilliant? Make sure you send me a review and tell me what you think.

Thanks go to Rose and Berzerkerprime for reviewing. To Berzerkerprime (Who reviewed for the second time ^_^) I also want to say: Mhehehee… stick around and you may find out…

On dwarf names: kk indicates a hard k, like in 'back'; rr means it's pronounced like a Swedish 'r' - rrrrroll it off the tip of your tounge. The double 'n' in 'Thirgynn' means that the 'y' is short, and that means that the 'i' is long, like so: Thiir-gynn.

**!!!**A great, huge, happy, jumping-up-and-down THANK YOU goes to Hott, for helping me see what was wrong with this chapter, and hopefully it seems a little bit more believable now. Shtupping? LOL! Never heard that one before… 

**!!!**(II) And thank you White_Aster, for even more friendly criticism and for *sobs happily* finding my spelling and grammar errors! *Big, sparkly anime eyes* Thank you, thank you, thank you!


	5. Conflict and Compromise

I think I should call these chapters the "the Great City arc", because as much as I want to get on with the adventure/action part, there are some things that needs to happen here first. I promise you, however, that it will get darker eventually. I have some really 'berserk-y' scenes in store ) *muhehehee*

Stay with me, people. This adventure is just kicking off.

…However, I do in no ways hope to gain any financial compensation from writing this, since it is fanfiction and 'Kenpuu Denki Berserk' is the property of the very talented and admirable Mr Kentaro Miura, who is not me. Please, please, please don't sue me, I'm just writing for the fun of it.

********Due to the fact that I uploaded this chapter in the middle of the night, I wasn't as pleased with it when I woke up in the morning. I've been preening it a lot, and added a small scene – mostly thanks to Hott, whose criticism/comments gave me reason to think again. I hope it's even better now.

-*--*-

Chapter five: Conflict and compromise.

As they were walking towards the great gate Judeau sidled up beside Steelwing and offered him his silver Crown back, but the tall elf only made a dismissive gesture.

"I said keep it and I meant it. I have no need for it."

Judeau let the coin slip back into his purse.

"All right... Thanks."

Steelwing gave a small, indifferent shrug and kept looking ahead, but after a short silence he spoke again, very quietly.

"I knew he was going to pay you back. I know dwarves very well. I just wanted to …remind him… so that his self-pity doesn't overshadow his sense of honour. I don't mind paying for an opportunity like that."

Judeau felt certain that there was some hidden meaning in that, but with Steelwing's indifferent intonation, he couldn't find it. He tried to read the elf's expression, but it was flawless in its neutrality.

Steelwing noticed his gaze, though, and met it.

"So you know that it is payment and not charity. I know some humans have a problem with that."

"Oh, OK." _That was not the hidden meaning, though, was it?_

"There they go…" The deep rumble of Taskkarr's voice carried a tone of suspicion. "…Elves and manlings, always mumbling. Can't speak up properly. And they wonder why we think they're so unreliable."

"Indeed," Thirgynn snorted, "One can't help but feel like they're hiding something…" 

"Ah, here we are!" Samina interrupted, a little bit too cheerfully, as they arrived at the gate. She turned to one of the guards with a polite smile, "Good evening, sir, I'd like to retrieve my weapons, if you please."

"Certainly, Miss. Do you have your receipt?"

That's when Judeau realised that Taskkarr and Steelwing both carried weapons. Taskkarr had a two-handed war hammer strapped to his back and a vicious-looking battle-axe in his belt. Steelwing carried two slender swords in odd, rune-engraved sheaths, one on each hip. Judeau silently scolded himself for not noticing this before.

_I am too used to see armed men. I thought I was more observant… _

Samina presented the soldier with a folded piece of paper and he went through a small door next to the big gate.

"How come you wear weapons in the city?" Judeau asked Taskkarr "I thought it was forbidden."

The dwarf grunted something inarticulate, but as Samina walked back to them she replied:

"Well, of course nobody would dare to try to take the weapons away from an elfish Crusader, and Taskkarr here is ro-KHUFF!"

Judeau was as shocked as Samina when her sentence was abruptly cut off by Taskkarr's meaty fist, thrust into her stomach. She doubled over and gasped, with tears in her eyes:

"Wha… wha'dehell whassat for?"

Taskkarr scowled angrily at her and gestured at the guards. "It's bad enough that these ten manlings know. I don't want you to tell everybody! Not while I'm beardless! It is horribly embarrassing, and not only to me!"

"Yuh… you told them… not me…"

Judeau shook off his shocked paralysis.

"You _hit_ her?! That was the best way you could stop her from saying something? By punching her in the _guts_?"

Taskkarr glared up at Judeau and began turning red again.

"What's your problem, manling? This is between me and her, not you!"

"You _don't hit_ women!"

"Why? She can take it!"

"What kind of an excuse is that?!"

"It's not an excuse at all! Why should I be excusing myself?!"

Their voices were getting louder and louder and the people nearby was stopping to look at the man and the bald dwarf, but at the same time taking care to keep a safe distance.

"You should at least apologise to her!"

"WHAT?! _She's_ the one who should be apologising to _me_!"

"And just how the hell do you figure _that_?!"

"All right, **ENOUGH!**" Thirgynn's voice boomed, and resounded in the great hallway as if it had been shouted into an enormous copper cauldron. The two combatants were startled into silence and stared at him, and he continued, but with his normal voice:

"Mr Judeau, Taskkarr reacted without thinking. First of all: Dwarves don't differentiate between men and women; we don't have a 'weaker sex' that needs protecting, and secondly he has been very stressed - for perfectly good reasons - so he acted instinctively and did to Samina what he would have done to any dwarf in this situation. Now, you don't know much about dwarves, I've realised that, so I guess you couldn't be supposed to understand this. 

"And Taskkarr, you overreacted. A simple 'no' would have sufficed; Samina would have understood… And you know how protective human males can be of their women - had Mr Judeau not said anything, someone else most likely would."

To Judeau's surprise, Taskkarr took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and said, in a completely different tone of voice, tired and apologetic:

"You are right, Master miracle-worker Thirgynn." He turned to Judeau. "I apologise for losing my temper, that was very unworthy of me. You only did what you felt was right, and I was rude." Then he turned to the nearly recovered Samina and bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry I hit you, Samina… It's just that… sometimes I forget that you are not as… durable as a dwarf."

She straightened up, still keeping a hand on her stomach, and smiled while wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"It's okay…" Her voice sounded only a little strained, "…I accept your apology, Taskkarr, and wish to apologise to you. I should have been a little more thoughtful." Taskkarr bowed his head again, more deeply this time, then turned away and trudged out through the massive gate.

Judeau felt a little relieved that he had not been asked to apologise to anyone, since he didn't feel like saying that he had been wrong when he knew he'd done the right thing. He walked over to Samina and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you really okay?"

She took a deep breath and let her hand fall away from her midsection. When she spoke there was no longer any strain in her voice, and she smiled reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm tough." She then tilted her head to the side and her expression turned into one of slight wonder. "…But that was very sweet of you, sticking up for me like that… Sweet, or foolish."

He raised one eyebrow. "You're welcome."

She laughed at that. "No, no, what I mean is that you defended a woman you don't know, against a heavily armoured, armed and easily angered man, when you yourself have neither weapon nor armour to defend yourself."

Judeau scratched the back of his neck and smiled a little sheepishly.

"I… actually didn't think of that. I just reacted."

"Well, it doesn't matter, I am grateful …and a little impressed."

"Miss Falcon?" The soldier had returned, carrying a sword and a morningstar.

"Oh, yes, thank you, sir." She took the weapons and expertly fastened them to her sides.

"Impressed at how irresponsibly unthinking I am?" Judeau joked self-consciously.

"No, Mr Judeau," she replied seriously, "I am impressed that your first impulse was to help."

As former commander of the Hawks reconnaissance troops, Judeau had no problem at all in finding his way back to Shammael's tent. On the way there, he tried chatting a little with Samina since both dwarves seemed to have withdrawn into sulking introspection and Steelwing was about as talkative as a statue.

"So… why did that soldier call you 'Falcon'?"

She seemed a little thoughtful, and when she looked up at him it was with a distant look on her face. "Hm? Oh, that. Well, I'm common-born so I don't have a family name. When people ask me to sign anything official I use 'Falcon' instead. It's my epithet, like Taskkarr has 'Orcslayer'."

"I see. But why Falcon?"

She shrugged "I have very good eyesight, and a knack for finding hidden things… or people …or truths…" The last was said with a strange glance at his face, that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. "…So it felt appropriate." 

Judeau suddenly felt a little more wary of this woman.

"That must be useful in your line of work."

"It sure is. And it's nicely complimented by well-trained instincts. After all, us bounty-hunters have to go through rigorous training to learn to enhance and trust our instincts." Judeau recognised that - it was the same thing as scout training; sometimes you would have to rely on your gut-feelings, and when it came to that you'd better be confident enough to trust them. 

She gave him a curious look, "What about you? what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a mercenary, a scout." The thought to stick to his previous lie back at the inn didn't occur to him until it was too late, but the chagrin over the slip-up lasted for just a fraction of a second, before he remembered the glance she'd given him only a moment ago.

_…No, if she is as good at telling lies from truth as she implied, I should try to stay as close to the truth as possible… only without making myself seem like a complete madman, if possible._

_Or I could try to change the subject, that would work nicely, too._

"Really?" Samina said, surprised, "I would not have taken you for a mercenary. You seem too… good-natured."

"Thank you." He smiled at her. "But one doesn't necessarily have to be a brute, just because one's a mercenary."

She smiled back, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess not."

"But if it makes you feel any better, I have also worked as a travelling performer."

"Now, _that _is easier to believe."

He chuckled, and they walked for a while in comfortable silence.

"But… If you're a mercenary…" Samina suddenly inquired, "how come you don't have any equipment?" He was unprepared for that question and hesitated, and she added, "Your weapons? Armour?"

"I… I lost them."

She frowned. "Gambling?"

"No. I… was in a fight… I got very seriously wounded, and when I woke up in the Healer's house, my weapons were gone."

"Ah, stolen. Well, that's the way of the battlefield."

Judeau made a vaguely affirmative noise, and almost sighed out of relief as they arrived at Shammael's tent.

The three dogs were lying outside of it, but the Healer himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, boys! Where's your master?" At the sound of Judeau's voice, Tail jumped up and greeted him with exuberant joy, wagging his tail so hard that he couldn't put his paws on Judeau's chest, no matter how many times he tried.

At Tail's excited yipping, Muzzle lifted his head and began growling, a low, ominous sound that made Samina take a step back, but Paw quickly surveyed the newcomers and lazily kicked Muzzle in the ribs with one hind paw - without getting up from his comfortable position on the ground. Muzzle yelped, looked at Paw, looked again at Judeau and the others, and uncertainly began wagging his tail instead.

Judeau laughed and knelt down so that Tail could greet him properly. After petting the happy dog for a moment, he took Tail's head in his hands and held it still.

"Good boy, Tail, good boy! Go get Shammael! Go find!"

Tail gave him a couple more licks in the face before setting off through the crowd, pausing only briefly to lick Samina and Steelwing's hands on the way past.

"He should be here shortly," Judeau said and wiped his face with a corner of his cloak. "In the meantime, allow me to introduce Paw and Muzzle." He gestured at the two remaining dogs. "The one who ran off was Tail."

"Charmed, I'm sure…" Samina muttered while drying her hand off on her black jacket. Steelwing pulled out a piece of cloth from a pocket and dried his hand as well, pointedly ignoring the suddenly chuckling dwarves.

They didn't have to wait for long. Tail returned triumphantly after only about ten minutes, soon trailed by Shammael. The Healer gave Judeau a surprised look.

"Are you back already, boy?"

"Sort of, yes. I ran into some people who needed your help." Judeau turned to introduce the group, but Taskkarr interrupted him.

"We need a weed, and this boy told us you'd know about it."

Shammael's glance at the dwarf quickly turned into a shocked, incredulous stare.

"Wait… Are you… a _dwarf_?"

Taskkarr's teeth ground against each other. "Yes."

"By all the gods, man, what has happened to your beard?!"

Taskkarr's jaw clenched and unclenched a few times as his face began to turn familiarly red, but before he could explode, Samina intervened:

"Well, sir, that is what we seek your help about. We need to remove magical resonance from these three people, and we've heard of an herb called 'Dusklily'… do you by any chance know anything about it?"

Shammael tore his eyes away from the bald dwarves and turned to the scar-faced woman.

"Hm? Dusklily?" He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before answering, "Yeah. I know about it. I know how to prepare it, and where to find it. But I don't have any right now."

"If you could get some for us, and prepare it, we would pay you handsomely." Taskkarr pointedly cleared his throat and Samina added, while rolling her eyes, "Within reasonable limits, of course."

Shammael looked the party up and down, thoughtfully sucking the inside of his cheek, before turning back to the scar-faced woman.

"Miss, I don't think you understand just how rare Dusklily is, or how hard it is to find; for three people, it will _cost_ you handsomely."

She didn't seem at all disturbed. "It's a matter of dwarf honour. I have money, and so do they."

Shammael made an angry gesture and snorted, "I don't care about money. Money's no good when you live like a hermit in the forest. I need equipment. Stuff. Things."

Taskkarr sighed.

"What kind of stuff?"

The Healer suddenly got a very sly look on his face.

"You wouldn't happen to be a dwarf smith, now would you?"

Taskkarr met his eyes with a look that meant he knew exactly what was going on in the Healer's head, and that he didn't like it much. "I am an accomplished smith."

"By dwarf or human standards?"

"Dwarf, of course."

Shammael rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.

"Great! I need a new hand-axe for chopping wood, a firing mechanism for a light crossbow, and a good battle-axe…"

"Hold on a minute! Just how much can this weed really be worth? That's dwarf-quality stuff you're talking about!"

Shammael halted the recital of his wish list and gave the dwarf a serious look.

"Master dwarf, Dusklily grows only here in Ducarron and, as a matter of fact, has not been found in any other place than in my forest. That forest is _very _big, and I'm the only one who knows where to look for the plant, since it grows only in special places. And then there are other creatures in that forest who think of it as their home, and some of them are pretty darn territorial and aggressive. The Dusklily may well grow in one of their territories," he leaned forward until he was almost eye-to-eye with the dwarf, "So it is not only rare, but can be dangerous to collect, too… and I have monopoly on it. It's worth a _lot_."

Taskkarr returned the glare, "I'll accept the monopoly part, but you can deduct the danger cost, 'cause I'm going with you, and I'll take care of any 'danger'."

"Nice try, master dwarf, but it's still going to cost you."

"How much? Give me the price in real money!"

"For three people, the cost is three thousand…"

"Hah! Three thousand? And that's supposed to get you dwarf-forged weapons?"

"…Heads. Golden Kings' Heads."

Taskkarr's jaw dropped and he yelled at the smug-looking healer: "THREE THOUSAND KINGS' HEADS? Do you think I am a complete idiot? No bloody weed can be worth three thousand Kings' Heads!"

"That's true, but then Dusklily is an herb and not a weed, so it is worth a bit more."

Taskkarr turned to his comrades: "That's it, there's got to be a better, or at least cheaper way of getting the bloody flower!"

"Oh, get real, Taskkarr!" Samina exploded and crossed her arms over her chest, speaking harshly, "You are not going to get cheap about this! I haven't come all this way, listening to your incessant whining, and finally – through an incredible stroke of luck – found a man who not only can find the herb, but also prepare it correctly, to have you throw it all away because he has the good sense to demand payment in return!"

"By Vontar's hammer, woman, we're talking about three thousand Kings' Heads! I'd rather search for the weed myself, than be cheated in such a way by this …_manling_!"

"No. No hopping way! I will not let this take any more time than it absolutely has to! If you won't pay this man, then I will!"

"What? Three thousand must be your entire life savings! You will do no such thing! That is out of the question!"

The scar-faced woman gave the dwarf a smouldering glare, and hissed: "Watch me, then! I am so sick and tired of your and Thirgynn's sulking, self-pitying, testy attitudes! Do you really think that you're the only ones who have suffered because of your curse? I'll happily pay to get my old friends back, and I honestly couldn't care less about how much it would cost!"

"But he's trying to rip us off!"

Suddenly Thirgynn spoke up, gazing unwaveringly at the Healer with something almost respectful in his eyes:

"Yes, I believe that our Mr Healer is doing to us precisely what we would have done to him, had the tables been turned. He has a good sense of business… and if he is the only one who can find and prepare the herb, then we really don't have a choice."

"So what you're saying," commented Samina with something not-so-subtly sadistic in her voice, "is that he's acting like a dwarf?"

Thirgynn frowned at Samina, and Taskkarr growled angrily at them both until Steelwing's calm voice unexpectedly cut through the tension like a well-honed blade:

"He's not ripping you off."

Taskkarr turned his glare-of-death on the tall elf instead. "Say again?"

"He's not ripping you off, he's telling you what the herb is worth."

"And just what would you know about that, Mr deep-elf Crusader?"

Steelwing shrugged slightly. "No more than you, master dwarf, but I have the benefit of objective thinking, since money has no value to me. Think about it yourself: In the entire known world, Dusklily can only be found in one place. One. That's why we're here, remember?"

Taskkarr was growling again, "What's your point, elf?"

"Starsteel."

Whatever analogy that was, it was not lost on the dwarves. Both stared with stunned expressions at the unruffled elf.

"But… surely…" Thirgynn said weakly, "…that is not a fair comparison… herbs re-grow all the time…"

"Shows how much you know," Shammael huffed, "Once you've picked a Dusklily, it takes up to five years for the root to send up flowers again."

With a soft, metallic hiss, Steelwing unsheathed one of his rune-engraved swords and held the dark grey blade out in front of himself. Judeau had never seen such an exquisite weapon before; there was not a dent in the razor-sharp edge, nor any other trace that this sword had ever been used, or even sharpened. It gleamed dully – almost menacingly – in the afternoon light. Steelwing studied the weapon in his hand, as if to ascertain its qualities, and spoke softly:

"No, you're right, master miracle-worker Thirgynn… it is not a fair comparison. They are both as rare as the other, but Starsteel could technically be found anywhere… and right now you have much more need for the flower."

"All right, all right," Taskkarr grumbled in defeat and turned away from the elf. "You've made your point."

He turned back to Shammael, who had to make a visible effort to tear his eyes away from the grey blade as Steelwing sheathed it again. With a scowl, the dwarf addressed the Healer:

"Fine. A hand axe, a battle-axe, a firing mechanism for a light crossbow. What else?"

"Um…" Shammael hesitated for a moment, then gave a quick shake of his head and returned to the business at hand. "Two knives. One large, double-edged, and one small."

The dwarf ground his teeth. "And…"

"Hmmm… that's all I need that a smith can make. I need boots and clothes and some supplies, but the day after tomorrow I should have enough money to buy that myself, so…" he suddenly caught Judeau's eyes and winked at him. "I want you to forge an armour for my friend here."

"Shammael…!" Judeau gasped in surprise.

"Hush, boy. This is business. You need a new armour, right?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"Then no buts. You'd better take this chance, one doesn't get dwarf-forged stuff for free very often."

"Try never!" Taskkarr scoffed, but spread his hands in defeat and continued grimly, "I certainly can't understand why you would do that, but you're the man who calls the deal. If you want to give away a piece of dwarf-forged armour, I guess that's your business." The bald dwarf then turned to Judeau. "What kind of armour?"

Judeau helplessly shook his head. "You have got to stop giving me things, Shammael. I am up to my neck in debt to you."

The healer gave him his trademark snort, "Pish-tosh, boy. I told you already: I enjoyed your company, I find that rare in a human, and I want to thank you for being good company to a lonely old man for almost two months. Now stop complaining and tell the dwarf what you want."

With a sigh and a shrug, Judeau gave in and turned to Taskkarr.

"Full metal cuirass with pauldrons, helmet with face and neck protection, and a pair of light gauntlets, thank you."

"Don't thank _me_…" the dwarf grumbled. "What kind of quality do you two want for these things? They'll be very high-grade now if you don't want anything else."

"That'll be fine, as far as I'm concerned," Judeau hastily replied and Shammael nodded, looking very pleased with himself.

"Great. Perfect." Taskkarr turned to Steelwing and Samina, growling, "Well, I hope you two are happy now. I'll need a week in a smithy."

Steelwing just looked at the dwarf, but Samina lifted an eyebrow and icily replied:

"Then I guess I'll just go and turn my weapons back in."

"You do know you forced me to do this, right?"

"Oh, I do," Samina replied, but Steelwing merely looked away, as if the conversation was boring him.

Taskkarr glared at them for a short while longer, before turning back to Judeau.

"I need to go find a smithy to hire, but you're coming with me, manling; I'll need your measurements so I can make the armour the right size."

"I understand. You could use my old armour as a template, it fit quite well." Judeau opened his sack and let the shredded piece of equipment fall to the ground. Taskkarr gave it a disdainful look.

"You're joking, right? That thing is good only as scrap metal. I won't even try to take measurements on that."

Samina gave a low whistle. "I hope you weren't in that when that happened… I could fit my head in those holes!"

Judeau smiled a little uncertainly at her. "I told you I got seriously injured…"

She gave him an incredulous stare. "No way… I was just joking… you mean you really were in it?! Man! You should be dead!"

Not really willing to go into the details on that subject, Judeau's tone was a bit short when he replied, "Shammael found me in time, and saved me. He is very skilled."

The Healer nodded proudly in agreement.

"You are _not_ joking!" Taskkarr said, a little stunned, and Thirgynn gave the Healer an even more respectful look. Steelwing actually bowed to the old man, but Samina said nothing, only watched Judeau with a small, thoughtful frown.

-*--*-

*******I think it got better… thank you Hott, for getting the little wheels in my head going!

*******Also, thanks to White_Aster for noticing the things I've missed.

Let's see… thank you Gundamgirl66, Smack54 and nada for reviewing, I hope you keep finding this story enjoyable! Tell me immediately if you start losing interest, OK?

Again, thank you Hott, I can never get enough of your reviews or comments!

Personal comments (because I can and I have nothing better to do anyway…):

gundamgirl66: Thank you! ^_^

Smack54: Thank you, I intend to.

nada: hee hee… I kick ass… ^_^ Thankies, thankies, I will now be obnoxiously proud of myself for surely three days or so!

*****hint, hint* if you want me to update faster, review. It works like a kick in the pants for my inspiration!


	6. Getting Acquainted

The Great City arc continues. Judeau gets a brainful of Taskkarr. I have come down with a case of the sniffles and coughers, so I'm going back to bed – can't think straight.

[insert standard disclaimer here]

:::Updated::: Hott, I don't know where this fic would be without you. Thank you for being there to point out the things I should've seen myself. ^_^

-*--*-

Chapter six: Getting acquainted.

The heat of the furnace reached Judeau even here, where he sat on a carved stone bench next to Samina, outside the smithy that Taskkarr had decided to hire. He could hear the two dwarves in there, haggling about the price for smithy and metal with the resident blacksmith; a tall, burly man covered in old burn-scars. By the sound of it things were going well; Taskkarr hadn't roared yet.

Steelwing stood on the other side of the open door, leaning casually against the wall and exuding an air of boredom, but Samina was regarding the passing people and the grand interior structure of 'Infantry Street' with a look that pretty accurately mirrored Judeau's own feelings about this place: uncomfortable awe.

It seemed all streets in here were named either after military terms or old kings, except for the main street that he had first stepped in on, which bore the proud name of 'Victory Road' and was so high-ceilinged that four rows of balconies overlooked it on each side. 'Infantry Street' was a small back street, only one floor in height, but somehow still managed to look impressive.

Judeau figured it could be because of the intricate stonework and the brightly coloured frescoes and mosaics everywhere, but it could just as well be the occasional nobleman or -woman, who would pass by on their way to something else, accompanied by a band of brutish-looking bodyguards and dressed to impress in sparkling colours and fine cloth.

Or it could just be the press of the people, the teeming crowd that made those brutish bodyguards necessary for the nobles. No carts were allowed on 'Infantry Street' - Judeau had noticed the sign at the entrance that said so - but it was easily big enough for two loaded carts to pass each other with a good berth, if it hadn't been for the people. Judeau was honestly surprised that the milling crowd could seem to flow so smoothly, without anyone stepping on another's heel or toes, or tripping over each other.

And then, of course, there was the noise that always came with crowds – chatter, shouts, laughter, all merging together to create a solid barrier of sound, that was overwhelming in itself.

Each of these elements were impressive and a little bit overbearing by themselves, but became simply stupefying in combination, like this. And this was just a small side street.  

Samina leaned back against the wall and let out a puff of breath.

"Hopping hell, when I heard stories about the Great City, I always thought they were exaggerated - but here I am, and they weren't… By the gods, this place is just too much!"

Judeau nodded severely. "I agree." He spread his hands to indicate the whole, mountain-like structure. "What kind of mind would construct something like this?" 

Samina gazed at the street before them and sighed:

"The Ducarri mind… always have to show the world how high and mighty they are." Then she turned an interested glance on him. "So you're new to the Great City as well, then?"

"Um… Yeah." _Or, rather, to this entire world…_

Samina sat back in contemplative silence, and after a while the argument inside the smithy quieted, being replaced by the subtle sound of money being exchanged. Soon the blacksmith walked out with a satisfied air about him and a fat purse in his hand, and disappeared into the crowd, heading further into the city. Steelwing straightened out his back and turned to Samina.

"It seems the deal is closed, so I will go and find a suitable place to train."

"Yeah, I know. Just check back every now and then, OK?"

Steelwing seemed to consider this for a moment. "I'll come back to this smithy once a day."

"Perfect."

The tall elf left, and from inside the smithy the sound of raised voices begun again, in a language utterly foreign to Judeau.

"My god, are they strangling each other in there?"

Samina laughed in good humour. "No, no. What you are hearing, my friend, is the secret language of the mountain smiths: Dwarfish. I don't know why it has to sound like they're gargling grovel, though."

"What are they saying?"

"Don't ask me! 'Lesser races' are not allowed to learn it. And that means everyone who is not a dwarf." She cocked her head to the side and listened, nonetheless. "It sounds like they're disagreeing on something, though… but with that language it can be really hard to tell."

The argument ended with Thirgynn's well-modulated voice saying something in a way that seemed very matter-of-factly, and Taskkarr came out, looking like a dark cloud on a stormy day, and turned to Judeau.

"All right, manling. It has come to my attention that I am getting off this deal very cheaply, and…" He glared back at Thirgynn, who stepped out behind him. "…my honour as a dwarven craftsman demands that I give you a better price…" He sighed. "What I am trying to say is that… you deserve a little payment for helping us find the Healer… and… I know what my beard is worth…" Another exasperated sigh. "So… I'll make weapons for you too, if you tell me what kind you want."

The gentleman inside Judeau told him to decline the offer, but the mercenary part of him reminded him of how badly he needed weapons, and that the weapons this dwarf could forge would surely be of high quality. However, he shut them both up and studied the determined look on Taskkarr's face instead.

_Declining is not an option, is it? I would insult him greatly if I tried that._

A quick look at Thirgynn told him that the miracle-worker was as much a part of this deal as Taskkarr, and would be equally insulted. Inwardly, he shook his head. _I can't comprehend these creatures…_

What he said, though, was: "Two scimitars and four throwing knives, then."

Taskkarr grumbled something in dwarfish and then slapped his hands together.

"All right! Time to get working. Get into the smithy and strip, manling."

"What?"

"Walk into this smithy here, and take off your shirt, so that I can take your measurements," the dwarf impatiently explained, and stomped back into the smithy. Judeau, Thirgynn and Samina followed.

The two dwarves disappeared into the back of the smithy to get the tools they needed, and Judeau began taking off his borrowed clothes. As he started to unbutton the too large shirt, he became aware that Samina was still in the room and turned around to face her. She was leaning back against the wall, watching him with some amusement, and he sent her an admonishing look.

"Do you mind?"

A lopsided grin lit up her face and she replied mischievously: "No, no, not at all. I _like_ watching handsome men get undressed."

"Miss Samina-"

"Why? Are you shy?" She let the words hang in the air for only a second before she turned serious again. "I'm just joking. If you really want me to, I'll leave, but… staying out there-" She pointed over her shoulder at the street beyond the door. "-Gets me all stressed up and uncomfortable… and you're not taking all your clothes off, after all, and you won't be showing me anything I haven't seen before… so, is it okay if I stay?"

After a short inner struggle, he resigned. She'd probably seen scars before, too.

~

For a brief moment, Samina thought he would persist in trying to make her leave, but then his posture changed slightly and he gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug before turning away from her again.

"OK, stay if you want."

Grateful, she smiled. Sure, she was a big-city girl, but this place could suck the energy right out of you by sheer impressiveness, and she just hadn't been prepared for it after being on the road for as long as she had. "Thanks."

When he slipped the ridiculously large shirt off of his shoulders, however, she had to stifle a gasp. His back was criss-crossed with red, fresh scars, as if he had recently been flogged, and his right arm was covered in similar scars that made it look like it had been torn to shreds and then stitched back together again. He turned towards her, folding the shirt, and she saw the two blotchy, star-shaped scars on his chest, which mirrored those she'd spotted on his back.

_No way… no way… then it was true, what I saw on that mangled cuirass; he's been run right through, by a lance or a pike or something - twice! How could he have survived that? …That Healer must really be something…_

He glanced up at her, and smiled a little self-consciously.

"Not what you expected?"

_…No, that's not the problem. I expected this, because you weren't lying about getting hurt in that cuirass. The problem is that I can't believe it._ "Sorry to stare, Mr Judeau, I didn't mean to offend you."

"That's all right, I understand how awful it must look."

She smiled bitterly at him. "Hey, at least you don't have any on your face – yours can be hidden."

Still smiling, he regarded her for a short moment. "That's true …Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me see the positive side of this."

A small, lopsided smile found its way to her face. "You're welcome."

He sat down on an anvil, and Samina studied him as inconspicuously as she could.

_Almost all of the scars are on his back - and I would bet good money that he was impaled from behind as well - which is odd, really, because he doesn't strike me as the cowardly type… not at all…_

_But hey, that's just one more thing that doesn't add up about this man. I mean, not knowing about dwarves, that I can understand; there are many places in this world where a man can live his entire life and never know of dwarves as anything but rumours and fairy-tales, but elves? How can he not have known about elves? They're everywhere!_

_…Of course, they are much more rare than humans, but still. He should have known about elves._

_All right, to be fair, this is Ducarron; the most human-dominated country on the continent. He could be from some small farmer-village, and that would explain his ignorance… but how, then, could he be a mercenary?_

Struck by a sudden insight, she regarded the red scars a little more closely, absently reaching up to trail her thumb along the scar that marred her own face.

_Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute… are those… demon scars? Could they be?_

_No, that's impossible. If he got that badly hurt by a demon, he would have been eaten, because, gods on a stick, he must have been unconscious after that, and a demon would never spare an unconscious man. I'm just seeing things._

_Let's see… He's a sword-for-hire who's been badly maimed in a recent battle, and yet he's new to the Great City; the one place where he could have been hired for a decent amount of money._

_He knows nothing of dwarves or elves, and yet he gives me the impression of a man who has been around._

_It's almost enough to make me doubt my instincts._

_But out of all these things, the one that really gets me is the way he keeps hesitating when he's talking about himself… he's hiding something, something big… If I didn't have this good feeling about him, I'd think he was some kind of criminal._

_As it is, he's just driving me insane out of curiosity._

_You are a strange man, Mr Judeau, and I intend to find out why._

~

Judeau kept feeling her eyes on him, and tried to tell himself that it was probably only his imagination and his self-consciousness about all the new scars, but he still felt a little relieved when the dwarves came back - In spite of Taskkarr's brandishing of a knot-rope as if it was a strangling wire.

"All right, manling, on your feet."

After some measuring, Taskkarr paused behind Judeau's back, and after a short silence spoke with quiet contemplation:

"Manling…"

Judeau repressed the urge to remind the dwarf that 'manling' was not his name. "Yes? Ow! Don't poke my scars! They're tender!" He turned around to face the dwarf, only to have Taskkarr grab his right arm in a vice-like grip. The dwarf studied it closely while still speaking in that quiet, thoughtful manner:

"…Why are your back and this arm covered by demon-inflicted scars?"

Behind him, Samina made a small, weird sound. Judeau stared at the dwarf.

"How- how do you know that they are demon-inflicted?"

Taskkarr glared up at him. "Boy, are you trying to annoy me, or are you just ignorant?" He pointed at an insignia on his right shoulder. "Do you see this? It is the badge of membership of the demon hunters' guild, and this-" He pointed at an amulet that hung around his neck. "-Is the mark of a dwarven demon bane. Demons are my job, manling, and I've seen demon-scars enough times to recognise them when I see one."

"You exterminate demons _for a living_? Are they that common?"

"Well, common enough to cause trouble from time to time…" He fished out a small silver-coloured pendulum from a pocket on his chest and held it out over Judeau's arm, where it began swinging wildly in a strange, unnatural pattern that caused Taskkarr to gasp in genuine surprise.

"_Kratakch_, manling! Has there been a demon incursion I didn't know about? There are enough traces around you to suggest an army of the bastards! Explain this!"

_Oh damn… now what do I do?_ Judeau froze, trying to think fast, _I had no idea that such things could be detected… What do I say? … I could try to come up with a story of some kind, but Miss Samina might be able to tell that I'm lying and… and what would I say, anyway? 'Well, you see, I was just walking through the woods when suddenly an army of demons attacked me'… Who am I kidding, there's no way to explain this without appearing insane._

"Um… it's a long story… I'd rather not talk about it."

Taskkarr's expression hardened, and Judeau couldn't help but cringe as the dwarf's iron grip constricted around his scarred wrist.

"Ow, ow, ow…"

"I don't care if you want to talk about it or not, manling. I need to know where these demons attacked and, if possible, why. Don't you understand that a demonic force of that size could threaten this entire country?"

Judeau tried to pry the dwarf's hand open, but he might just as well have attempted to lift a mountain, for all the good it did. "All right, all right, I'll tell you, just let go of my arm!" After a short moment of hesitation Taskkarr released him. Rubbing his sore wrist, Judeau sat down on the nearby anvil as he tried to figure out how to explain the whole mess. After a little while of thoughtful silence he shrugged and looked up at the two dwarves in front of him.

"OK, you want the truth? You're probably not going to believe it – I wouldn't have believed it myself if someone had told it to me, but… I met these demons in another world: The world that I come from…" He saw the confused expressions on their faces and held up a stalling hand. "I know how strange this sounds, but hear me out." He took a deep breath and looked away, fighting to keep a wave of painful memories down. "Me and my comrades of the mercenary troupe called 'the Band of the Hawk' were… betrayed by… one of our own… and offered up as sacrifices to the demon lords called God Hand. They… they summoned an army of demons to kill us and thus complete the sacrifice, and I got so badly wounded that I was sure I was going to die there – but somehow I didn't. I woke up again, in this world, and it is not the world in which I was sacrificed."

Taskkarr interrupted with disbelief:

"How can you be so sure of that?"

Judeau smiled in spite of himself. "Many things. First of all, magic was not as present there – there were some magical creatures like fairies, but they were incredibly rare, and there were no special magical abilities like Healing, just like there were no dwarves or elves… And I had never even heard of a country called Ducarron, let alone any monstrous Great City." He paused for a moment. "But… the one thing that really convinced me, was the moons. There are two here. Where I come from, there was only one."

After a short pause, Taskkarr snorted decisively.

"Really, manling, do you expect us to believe this fairy-tale?"

"No," he answered honestly, "I told you you wouldn't – I didn't at first, myself – but the Healer did, and he thought that perhaps it was the presence of the demons that caused a… rift of some kind, that I… fell through..."

"I believe it," Samina interrupted, and Judeau gave her a surprised but relieved look as she walked up to stand beside the dwarves. "I believe he's telling the truth."

Taskkarr gave her a dubious look. "Explain."

"For one thing, it is obvious that he himself believes this story is true. Sure, lunatics also believe their own fantasies to be true, but Mr Judeau isn't crazy – Nothing about the way he is has led me to think that… so I believe him. And it explains a lot of things." She shrugged, "I have never before had reason to doubt my instincts about people, or my ability to tell when someone is lying, so I'm not going to start doing that now."

Taskkarr regarded the two humans thoughtfully for a while, rubbing his chin. "Well… far be it from me to question your sharp eyes, Samina… and stranger things have happened around demons; they twist and warp the reality around them, so I suppose it's not impossible that this manling got caught up in something like that… especially not with the incredible amount of demonic power that must've been there…" He held up the pendulum again, and it began swinging in that strange pattern once more. "…And the pendulum doesn't lie. They were there all right. Right on top of him, too."

He tucked away the pendulum again and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Then back to my original question: Why is your _back_ covered with scars?"

The not-so-subtle accusation in the dwarf's voice made Judeau's blood begin to boil for some reason, and he couldn't really keep the anger away when he glared at Taskkarr and replied:

"I did not flee, if that's what you think."

"Really?" Taskkarr's expression was as cold and hard as a rock, "Your scars tell a different story."

Judeau had had a long, confusing day, full of tension and strange new impressions, and it was beginning to take its toll on him. This conversation was bringing back memories that he didn't want to deal with right now, and he felt that he should get away from there and calm down before he did or said something that he would surely regret. He stood and walked over to where he had placed his clothes. "I don't have to listen to these accusations."

"They're not accusations, it's just professional interest: I don't make armour for cowards."

That was the last straw. Something inside Judeau snapped, and he turned on the spot, thrusting an accusing finger at Taskkarr.

"Now listen here you little runt! I would have fought alongside my friends until my very last drop of blood, but yes, I tried to escape. Not out of cowardice, nor self-preservation, I did it because I was the only one who had a chance to save our Major!"

"So this Major of yours-" Taskkarr interrupted, angered by the insult, "-Couldn't fight for himself, eh?"

A cold coat of ice descended on Judeau's anger. His back straightened, his hands tightened into fists, and his voice became a sharp, menacing blade of frost as he replied; "Don't jump to conclusions, little dwarf, you don't have any idea of what you're talking about. _She_ could fight better than any one of us – but if she had died, then we would truly have lost everything. Understand that every last one of us would have given our lives for her. I and Pippin were the ones who got the chance." He slowly walked back towards them, not taking his eyes off of Taskkarr's. "I got these scars when I shielded her body with my own. If you want to call that cowardice, then I am guilty as sin."

The tension between them could have been cut with a knife; any second Judeau expected the dwarf to take a punch at him, and part of him hoped that he would – it would give him a reason to hit back. They glared unwaveringly into each other's eyes, neither of them about to back down anytime soon.

Then, suddenly, the dwarf's face was lit up by a big, genuine grin. He grabbed one of Judeau's hands with both of his, and shook it vigorously.

"You have guts, boy! I like that! And I don't need Samina to tell me that you meant what you said, so your scars are honourable! Wear them with pride!"

Judeau's anger ground to a confused halt. "…What?"

Taskkarr let go of his hand and beamed at him. "I like you! You were ready to fight with me, and that's not somehing that any coward would have done! I take back all my accusations, you are a brave and honourable man!"

Still confused, Judeau decided to try again. "…What?"

"Do you want any special patterns or adornments or anything on your equipment?" the dwarf asked conversationally, picking up a hammer and weighing it in his hand.

Judeau felt the anger drain out of him, leaving nothing behind except confusion and a heavy weariness. He flopped down on the anvil again and rubbed his forehead with his hands. "Huh?"

"I said: would you like some adornments or patterns on your equipment?"

"Uh… I don't know…"

"You said your band was called 'the band of the hawk' or something, right? How about some stylised bird-of-prey shapes? Would you like that?"

"Um… sure… nice."

"Well then, boy, you're free to go, I'm all done with you. Come back in about six days and we'll see how much progress we've had by then, OK?"

Judeau just nodded tiredly, and went to put on his clothes.

As he walked out of the smithy, Samina was waiting for him. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Mr Judeau… please don't be too angry with Taskkarr. It's just that he's… a dwarf. He can't help being strange and provocative to us humans… he's just born that way."

Judeau watched her for a moment. She had that bright –albeit apologetic- smile on her face again, and he could feel the corners of his lips respond to it. Strangely enough, he also began feeling better and a little less confused… an odd, tickling sensation was beginning to build in his stomach. It worked its way up to his chest where it caused his breathing to become erratic, and before he knew it, it burst out of his mouth in a full-blown, hearty laugh. He felt the tension and confusion begin to drain away from him, right out through the laughter.

"Hehehe, 'he can't help it'! Hahahaa!"

Samina began giggling too, "Gods, that did sound stupid, didn't it? 'Don't be mad at him; he was born as a jerk.'" She joined in the laughter, and they had to lean on each other for a while, as they laughed all their tensions and worries away. People walking by gave them some odd looks, but it didn't bother them; it felt so good to just laugh for no special reason, other than the laughter itself.

After a while, though, they composed themselves and smiled at each other.

"That was fun." Samina said and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"Yes, it was." Judeau chuckled. 

She looked up at him, still smiling. "You know something, Mr Judeau? I think that since both you and I are going to have to wait for Taskkarr and Thirgynn to finish their work - and Steelwing will be training, training, training - that we should keep each other company for the rest of this week. That way you will have someone with you who knows that you're from another world, and can help you seem a little more… at home – and I won't have to be alone."

"Hmm… that sounds reasonable enough." He smiled. "Unless you only want to be with me to see me mess up and make a fool out of myself."

She tried to look serious. "Sir! You offend me! I would never attempt to use your ignorance for my own amusement, no matter how tempting it may be!"

"How reassuring."

"In fact, to show you my good will, I will buy you a drink." She took his arm and began walking. "There's this elven speciality that you just _have_ to sample…"

"Now, why does that make me feel so worried?" 

But he was smiling. It was reassuring to think that he was not going to be alone in the mind-numbing Great City for a whole week, and Samina didn't seem like such bad company. They could probably be friends.

-*--*-

Thanks go to: 

Gundamgirl66: Thank you, thank you!

Berzerkerprime: That's nice to know, it means I'm doing it right.

Smack54: *whew* I'm very glad to hear your opinion on character development – took a weight off my shoulders.

nada: Thank you very much!

And last but not least, Hott: Do keep reviewing! I've said it before, but it still stands; I love your reviews! 

…And yes, there's a reason for Taskkarr getting to keep his weapons. You'll find out soon enough…

There's not enough Judeau fics… must… write… Judeau… fic… after I've napped a little… zzzzzzz…

(And a special thank you to White_Aster, for helping this chapter become even better!)


	7. The Hawk, the Falcon and the Great City

Hooo-ey, did I EVER have issues with this one! First I started it one way, but hated it and started over, got a good bit but realised that I hated that too… and on top of everything I was ill. Rrrgh! But now I am finally satisfied with it, so here it is.

I do not own berserk, and even though I DO own some of the characters that appear in here, I do in no way intend to leech off of Mr Kentarou Miura – the creator of Berserk. In short: I do not intend to make money off of this. Don't sue me, 'cause I don't have any money anyway. 

Oh, and events in this chapter takes place a few days after the last one…

-*--*-

  


Chapter seven: The Hawk, the Falcon and the Great City

They were lost. Might as well admit it.

"I think we took a wrong turn somewhere, or something... I have no idea where we are, anymore. Do you, Miss Samina?"

The scar-faced woman stopped as they rounded a corner and came upon another intersection. She gave a small sigh and eyed the street signs wearily. "You think? ...Spear ...head ...alley... that old lady said something about 'left on spear...' something… I think… might have been 'lance...'" She rubbed her face with both hands and turned back to him, shrugging in defeat. "Nope, I don't. I can't even remember which way we came anymore, can you?"

"Honestly? No. This place is too big and confusing. I usually have quite a decent sense of direction, but I think I left it somewhere back there..." He made a vague gesture with his thumb over his shoulder. 

Samina gave him a lopsided, teasing smile. "What? Aren't you a scout? Shouldn't those be able to find their way around everywhere?"

He smiled back. "Well, under normal circumstances, yes – but the Great City of Ducarron is not what I would call a normal circumstance."

She nodded in silent agreement and walked over to a nearby bench, where she sat down with a small, exhausted puff of breath.

"Crap it... I really wanted to see the arena." He sat down next to her, and she half-turned to him. "It's one of those things you just have to have seen, you know? And I bet that that's where Steelwing has been staying, too." She leaned forward and placed her chin in her hands with a little sigh.

Judeau, on the other hand, leaned back and stretched a little with his hands behind his head, while studying the street and trying to get his bearings back.

"Well, you know... we could still find it. After all, we have to get a little more lost before we can find our way back, and we might just lose ourselves in the right direction..."

She looked up at him with amusement. "You know, the weirdest thing about what you just said is that it actually makes sense."

He smiled back and nodded. "Yeah, I know." Then he stood up and pointed, speaking more encouragingly, "Come on, lets try that door over there, it must lead to the outside, and I may be able to get a better indication of where we are from there."

"All right."

It took some effort to push the door open, and when they finally succeeded they were greeted by a gust of wind that threatened to suck the air out of their lungs. They hurried out and closed the door behind them, and the fury of the wind died down a little.

"Whooa…!"

They had exited onto one of the huge walkways that spanned over the outside of the Great City, and the view was absolutely breathtaking. Judeau walked over to the balustrade.

"Amazing! I had no idea of how far up we'd gotten ourselves! Just look at that… I think I might be able to see Shammael's forest from here!"

"Uh, yeah…" Samina's voice behind him carried a tone of apprehension, "You know what? I don't think we're going to find our way from here. Let's go back inside."

He turned and saw her standing right next to the door with her back against the far wall. 

"What's this?" he said, surprised, "Are you afraid of heights? Aren't you a 'Falcon'?"

"Yeah, well, I... shut up!" She glared at him. "...I'm not afraid of _heights_, I'm afraid of _this height!_ No human being should ever be this high up in the air."

He gave her a confident smile, "We're not in the air, we're standing on a walkway. Look, there's a balustrade here to prevent people from falling down. Come on." He held out his hand to her, but she gave the banister an uncertain look.

"Eh... 'Falling down'... no thanks, I think I'll just stay here, if it's all the same to you."

"All right, I'm not going to pressure you." He turned back to the view and leaned out a little bit to better study the City beneath and around him. The houses of the outer city looked so very small, and the people milling about down there so insignificant… 

_This must be what it would feel like to be a real hawk, soaring on the winds, looking down... _

Or maybe this is what it felt like to be Griffith...

He forcefully pushed that thought away and returned to the task at hand: finding out where the hell he was. As he raised his eyes, he spotted something interesting, and called back to Samina:

"There's a huge, transparent cupola over there!"

"Great! That must be the Grand Arena! Can you find your way there?"

"Yeah, I think so, we're even on the right floor!"

"Fantastic. I'm going back inside now, you can come as soon as you're finished defying death."

"I'll be right with you."

He had to stay for a moment, though, and gaze out over the ruggedly beautiful landscape. The mottled greenish-brown plain stretched out for as far as he could see, occasionally interrupted by a small, dark green patch of trees, or the neat little squares of fields far away where only a tiny wisp of chimney smoke indicated a farming village in their midst.

He saw the white chalk-lines of the roads that crossed the plain, all of them leading to the Great City, and the sparkling, blue ribbon of a river far off to the right. He saw the huge, dark shadows that the clouds cast over everything as they passed overhead, and he felt exhilarated... as if he was indeed a hawk, and could at any moment spread his wings and sail out, riding the wind, watching the world rush by underneath him...

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the crisp air, enjoying the way the wind whipped his bangs around his face and tugged at his ponytail and clothes.

"Gatts would have loved this place..." he whispered to himself. The big man had always retired to the highest available spot when he'd needed to think; almost as if it would help him reach the answers he sought. Judeau could practically see him now, sitting on the balustrade, clutching his huge sword to himself with that stern do-not-disturb-look on his face.

Then the shadow of a cloud dulled the sunlight where he stood, and a sudden sadness came over him.

_Gatts... I hope he survived... I hope he takes care of Caska... _

Suddenly the view wasn't so grand anymore, and he pressed down on all his thoughts about the past. _I have already dealt with that. It's over now._ He turned away and went back in to where Samina waited.

But some of the sadness lingered almost all the way over to the Grand Arena.

  
~  
The Grand Arena was, like everything else in the Great City, a huge and impressive work of art. Under its transparent cupola it fitted three major pits and fifteen smaller ones, with at least one fight going on at any time. Every wall was crowded with alcoves, and in each alcove stood a statue depicting either a grim warrior or a fierce beast.

It was everything Samina had expected, except that it was also easily navigated. It took them only a minute to find Steelwing in the training halls, once she'd asked the right person about temporarily residing Crusaders. Not surprisingly, he was training.

"You bastard!" she yelled as soon as she saw him, and was rewarded by a slight tightening of his shoulders as the only sign that she'd caught him by surprise; the elf didn't miss a step, and finished his kata before turning back to give her a stern look.

"I beg your pardon?" His gaze flicked over Judeau for an instant, before it re-settled on her. She shook an accusing finger at him,

"Guess what: I just spoke to one of the overseers here, and _apparently_ you had a fight today. Why didn't you tell me? I would have won a lot of money betting on you!"

"We have not been talking." Steelwing peeled the sweaty shirt off his body and tossed it into a corner, and once more Samina became aware of how frighteningly well-defined the elf was; he looked as though he had had his skin painted on over his muscles, with not an inkling of body-fat in between. He proceeded to sit down on the floor and perform sit-ups as she gathered her wits about her and glowered at him.

"That's no excuse. You could have left a message with the dwarves!" _And stop trying to distract me, you …walking anatomy chart!_

Steelwing managed to shrug between pulls. "I apologise."

She sighed irritably, but calmed herself. This was Steelwing, after all, being Steelwing. As far as he was concerned, the argument was over now... and she supposed he was right. She couldn't win any money on a fight that had already been fought, and Steelwing had simply forgotten that she would have wanted to be informed.

She reminded herself that even though money had great value to her, it held almost none to the Crusader.

The elf got to his feet and reached for a mug of water on a nearby table, but before he took a sip of it he gave Judeau a more obvious appraisal.

"New clothes?"

The blond man smiled politely and nodded. "Miss Samina helped me sell the remains of my old armour and took me shopping."

"I see." He paused thoughtfully for a moment as he finished his water, and then addressed the man again, "Do you mind if I borrow her for a minute?" It wasn't really a question, and one of Samina's eyebrows arched up. _Now what?_

Judeau nodded in slight surprise. "Uh… Sure, no problem." The elf gave her a serious look as he took her arm and walked over to the water barrel in the other end of the room.

"What? What is it?"

His voice was very silent as he replied, while helping himself to a refill of water:

"I understand that you do not want to be alone this week, and that you may have missed the company of humans, but are you certain that you want to choose that man for it?"

She gave the elf a confused look. "What's wrong with him? ...And since when do you care who I choose for company?"

Steelwing bestowed upon her the look he usually reserved for people who asked him to leave his weapons at the door. "I do not, but you and I both know that he is hiding something."

Her memories caught up with her. "Oh, right! You weren't there... he told us, after you'd left the other day... well, Taskkarr made him."

The Crusader's features remained hard and expressionless. "So what was it?"

"Now, don't get all crusader-y on me. Would I spend time with him if he were a criminal? Or evil in any other way?"

Steelwing kept his cold gaze on her, unwavering. She sighed.

"All right; he says he's from another world."

In an unusual display of emotions, the elf's both eyebrows rose heavenwards. Samina had to suppress a giggle at the sight, and continued quickly:

"You know how Taskkarr always goes on about how you can never know what will happen around a demon, 'cause they warp reality and all that?"

Steelwing gave a curt nod, still with that unusually surprised look on his face.

"Well, Mr Judeau and his band of mercenaries were attacked by an army of demons, he took a bad beating and lost consciousness, and woke up in another world; this one. Or that's what he says."

"And you... believe him?"

She allowed her mirth to show in a confident smile. "Yeah. Taskkarr thinks it could be possible, too."

"Hm," the elf said, in a tone that indicated that someone had just proven to him that the sky was, indeed, green. He downed his water and took another refill with him as he walked back to where Judeau stood.

The blond man had picked up a dagger from a nearby shelf, and weighed it in his right hand before he, with one swift movement, expertly threw it at one of the training dolls, hitting the dummy squarely in the chest.

Samina gave a whistle as she walked up to him. "Good throw!" But the man made a small grimace and flexed his fingers.

"Not good enough; I was aiming for the throat." He picked up another dagger and held it with his left hand. "Like _this_."

That knife flew true and straight, and lodged itself neatly where the larynx would be on a normal human. Judeau gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. "I'm still recovering..."

She let her incredulous stare move from the dummy to his smiling face.

"You're good... that kind of skill would be appreciated by the assassins guild, methinks..."

"There's an assassins guild?"

"Uh... no... not officially. Forget I said that."

"So," Steelwing interrupted, "You came here to... yell at me?"

She tried not to let her annoyance show as she turned to him. "I came to see the Grand Arena, and to find out how you were doing." She shut her mouth around the sarcastic 'if you don't mind terribly' that almost followed. This elf could bring out the worst in her; it was hard to be patient with someone so... infuriatingly calm and sensible. And cold.

"All right, you have seen the Grand Arena, and I am doing fine. Can I return to my training now?"

"Am I holding you back?"

The elf shrugged dismissively and picked up his two wooden training swords. Samina couldn't stop herself this time; she gave him an annoyed look, that he completely ignored, and said sarcastically, "Well, it was nice seeing you, too."

He got into his starting position and replied indifferently, "We see each other all the time when we are travelling."

She gave up and tiredly rolled her eyes. "Right. You're right. Have a nice day."

As they left, Judeau leaned in towards her and asked quietly, "He sure was curt, is he angry or something?"

She shrugged tiredly and shook her head.

"He's like that. He's a Crusader. They live only for one purpose; to defeat evil in all it's forms, everywhere." She sighed and dug her hands into her pockets. "And he is quite rabid, if I do say so myself. He doesn't want any ties to the world that could act as distractions from his purpose, such as friends."

She looked up at the blond man with a weary little smile. "But that doesn't stop me from trying, though. I'd like to think that he lets me tag along for some other reason than my ability to kill people."

He gave her a strange look, and she blinked in surprise. "What?"

"No, nothing... I was just reminded of something... old."

She could tell that that was all she would get out of him on that subject, and saw in his expression that it was something he'd rather not think about right now. She decided that for the moment it was probably best to just let the matter drop.

  
~  
Later that evening they had retired to the inn where Judeau had first met the odd team, and since it was past work-time, it was pretty crowded and noisy.

He watched the barmaid, the one who had flirted with him, as she wriggled her way through the milling people, expertly dodging elbows and sudden chairs all the way up to their table. She put the two jugs down in front of them with a wink at him, and left with a subtle glare at Samina, but the scar-faced woman noticed it and merely raised an amused eyebrow before turning to Judeau.

"Ooh... I think she likes you."

He chuckled. "Yeah... though she doesn't seem to fancy you much."

"I can't understand why not..." She shook her head in amusement and took a draught from her ale, before addressing him more seriously, "So... what are you going to do?"

"About her?"

This time it was her turn to chuckle. "No, I meant what are you going to do when this week is over?"

He turned serious and frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I was thinking of joining a mercenary band... you got any recommendations?"

She sucked in her breath between her teeth. "Not in Ducarron, I'm afraid; the only jobs mercenaries can hope to land here are as caravan guards or maybe something more long-term as bouncers... though many come here to try their skills at the arena. The royal army takes care of pretty much everything else."

He leaned back and sighed. "So what are my options? I don't know anything about anything here, and..." He gave a small, hopeless shrug. "I just want to find my place in this world."

She gazed at him thoughtfully across the table, tapping her fingers against her jug.

"Hmmm... you could try for caravan guard and travel to another country like Vagoria or Tolis-Hael - that's where the really good mercenaries can be found. Or you could join a guild... I could probably get you in touch with the... unofficial guilds, if you would want that, or you could try the entertainers guild... by the way, how much money do you have left?"

"Um... fifteen Crowns and eight Thrones."

She made a face. "Darn, forget the guilds, then. The fee for membership is usually somewhere around seventy Crowns... But when you can afford it, it's worth it. For example; only members of the entertainers guild are allowed to perform inside taverns – where the real money is ...and all guilds will help you find work within their designated fields."

She paused and studied her ale for a while, before speaking again, "No, I think your best shot is to freelance a little. Join a group of freelancers... like us."

"Join you?"

She looked up at him with a slightly uncertain smile. "Yeah, how about it? We're just a small group, so we could always use another sword - or knife - and killing 'bad guys' has proven to be quite profitable, actually. You wouldn't believe the things they collect sometimes... not to mention the rewards on their heads – And also, you wouldn't have to tell your story to a whole new group of people..."

"I..." he interrupted, "I see your points, and I appreciate them, but... would I be welcome? You all seem to be a rather tight team... well, maybe not right now, but when you are together, I just get that impression..."

She gave him a surprised look. "Why, sure. I mean, yes, the dwarves and I are friends, but Taskkarr already likes you and that means that Thirgynn likes you too, since they both judge people by the same dwarf standards... I like you, and Steelwing... well... I don't know." She looked down into her ale and gave a small sigh. "Sometimes, I think he couldn't care less if he has company or not. Anyway, the only thing he asks of the people who follow him is that they can fight well." She looked up again and smiled brightly. "And since you seem pretty good at that, I say you should come with us. At least until we get to another country where you can join a mercenary band, if that's what you'd rather do."

He smiled back and nodded appreciatively. "I'll... think about that."

"Do so." She placed her chin in her hand and gave him a friendly grin. "I think you could probably find your place with us."

An odd sense of déjà vu came over him, but he couldn't remember from where – and then the moment was interrupted as the huge, looming shadow of a man fell over them. Judeau looked up, surprised, as the owner of the shadow bent down over Samina.

He was big, almost as tall and muscled as Gatts but more fat, and adorned with a heavy tangle of blond beard and hair. Judeau could smell the stink of alcohol on the mans breath all the way over to his side of the table, as the brute spoke with a slurred accent:

"Heeey, girlie... why doncha dump scrawny over there and come have some fun with a real man?"

Samina tensed visibly and gave the man a glare of death that could have rivalled Griffith's.

"Go away."

The big man didn't seem to get the hint at all; he placed one hand on the table and the other on the back of her chair, leaning down even further.

"Now, don't play hard ta get, little girlie... I can show ya a real good time..." She didn't move an inch, not even to back away from his horrible breath, but the knuckles on the hand holding her jug were turning white, and there was a slight tremble in her voice as she replied;

"Not. Interested. Fuck. Off."

_This is odd..._ Judeau thought, _why is she reacting so strongly? He's just a drunk jerk..._

"Ooh, I like it when tha babes talk dirty..."

"Hey!" Judeau interfered, speaking seriously, "The lady isn't interested, leave her alone!"

The big man redirected his bleary gaze.

"'R else what, Scrawny? Ya gonna fight me?" The man grinned, straightened up and flexed his muscles intimidatingly. "Yer on."

And then everything happened very fast. The big man hadn't even begun turning to face Judeau when suddenly his face contorted in pain. As he began doubling over, Samina withdrew her fist from his scrotum and grabbed his head, pulling herself up as he went down and met his face with a well-placed knee.

His nose made a disgustingly squelching sound at the impact and the man was thrown backwards by the force of the blow, leaving a thin trail of blood through the air. As he hit the floor, Samina was standing upright, poised to strike again.

"What, that's it? One good hit and you go down? You're not man enough to handle me, get up!"

The big man wasn't moving – he was quite obviously unconscious, but two other guys of about the same size as him rose from their seats. 

"What the hell...? What didja do ta Jegon, ya bitch?"

She swirled around to face them. "What? You think you'll do better?" Her readiness to fight caused the two brutes some pause, and Judeau hurriedly got up and placed himself between her and them, grabbing Samina's fist with one hand.

"Miss Samina, calm down. They aren't worth it." _And I don't know what's really going on right now, but you're overreacting..._ She looked him straight in the eyes, and to his surprise he saw that hers were filled with fear. Fear, anger and defiance. He could feel her fist tremble in his hand, and her movements were a bit jerky as she looked over his shoulder at the two men, growling:

"Back off, Judeau, I can take them. They're just pushovers like him!" She pointed with her free hand at the man on the floor, and Judeau heard the other two brutes begin grumbling behind him.

_Ok, Judeau, it's time to be tactful if we are to get out of this unscathed – before this situation gets out of hand._

...Where did that aggressive fear come from?

"Yes, I know," he said, as if it was obvious that she could take on the two brutes single-handedly and win, without even getting scratched, "But they're not worth it. And this place isn't worth our money if they let in scum like that. I say we should just leave."

A short moment he thought he had her. He could see that the fear in her eyes was working for him – she wanted to get out of there – but then, fuelled by anger, her defiance flared up, drowning out everything else.

"No!" she pulled her fist free from his grip and took a step back, pointing forcefully at their table, "We're not going to leave! We're going to sit here, drink our ale and have a good time!"

_Right. Not with that attitude... All right, try again._ He shook his head seriously, pretending to be bored of the inn. "We're not going to have any fun here. This place is beneath us." He glanced over at the unconscious man on the floor. "...Apparently."

Samina hesitated, her fear spotting an opportunity to get out of the situation without hurting her pride, and he took the opportunity to deal with the two brutes. Turning around, he gave them his best senior-commander-means-business-glare:

"And what kind of friends are you two supposed to be? Turn him over so he doesn't choke on the blood!"

The two men proved to be just as thug-like as he had hoped; they reacted to the authoritative tone of his voice and hurried to their fallen comrade's side. Judeau turned back to Samina.

"Come on. I'm leaving, and I'd rather have you with me."

For a brief moment she hesitated as defiance and fear weighed against each other, but then she nodded curtly.

"Sure. You're right, this place isn't worth it."

She stalked out of the tavern and he followed, smiling apologetically at the barkeep as he passed by, and the hubbub in the tavern gradually resumed again when the show seemed to be over. Judeau let out a silent breath of relief as the door closed behind him, before hurrying after Samina.

Her long strides took her down the street and around a corner onto a smaller side street, where she slowly began losing momentum to come to a full stop next to an ornate pillar, against which she carefully leaned herself. Judeau stopped next to her, waiting tactfully for whatever would come once she'd composed herself.

After a couple of deep breaths she brought her trembling fist up in front of herself and carefully – painfully – opened it, showing that it held a thick, round metal disc. She flipped the disc over and he noticed that it had left an imprint in her palm.

"Dwarf coin," she said with a weak, embarrassed smile, but without looking up. "'If it's worth doing, it's worth doing thoroughly.' ...It's a dwarf saying."

He nodded and replied calmly, "I see." She took another deep breath and let the coin slip into a small pocket on her thigh that he hadn't noticed before.

"...I'm sorry..."

He nodded again. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay! I almost got us both into a fight! I broke that guy's nose!" Another breath. "...I'm sorry for... losing control like that."

He took a few steps closer and patted her shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "It's okay, I got us out of it, didn't I? So it's over. It's okay."

She finally looked up at him, and he saw that she was blushing heavily with embarrassment. "Yeah... and thank you for that..." Then she looked away again and sighed with frustration, "It was the smell, Okay?"

Judeau was a little taken aback. "Huh?"

"That smell. The stink of sweat and dirt and cheap liquor and old liquor and new liquor and all saturated in alcohol and it just crawls up your nose and down into your stomach and makes you SICK..." She made a grimace and closed her eyes for a moment. "...And I'm rambling. I'm sorry again."

After a short pause he whispered, while carefully rubbing her shoulder and arm, "It's okay. Really. We took care of it. It's over."

She shrugged off his hand and turned away from him, hissing; "Don't patronise me! I can take care of myself!"

"I know," he said, completely honest, "I saw that. You can probably kick my ass anytime... That's why it's okay now; you took care of it. You would most likely have gotten out of that other fight on the winning side, too, if I hadn't interfered."

She gave him a suspicious glare over her shoulder, apparently trying to see if he was making fun of her. He shrugged and smiled, trying not to let the sadness that came creeping back show. "I once knew a woman like you, who fought for herself and surpassed most men with her skill. It just doesn't seem strange to me anymore."

She watched him uncertainly for a while, but then her face relaxed and she turned back towards him with a small smile.

"You're serious." It wasn't a question. She gave a slight shake of her head and sighed once more. "I'm sorry again, for snubbing you off... I just can't stop being rude today, can I?"

He smiled happily. "It's okay. I keep telling you..."

Her smile widened and she gave him a playful jab in the ribs. "You have to stop being such a pushover, Mr Judeau. Get angry with me, I deserve it!"

"No, see, then we get back to this you-being-able-to-kick-my-ass business..."

That actually got her to laugh, even if it was a tired one.

"You sell yourself too short, Mr Judeau. I am not at all certain which one of us would win in a fight... but let's not determine that tonight. I am tired and I just want to go to bed. Let's call it an evening, shall we?"

Pleased with himself and the way he had handled the situation, he nodded. _Yep, I still got it._

Chatting lightly, they walked back to the somewhat cheaper inn where they had hired rooms.

"I'll meet you for breakfast tomorrow," he said as she stopped by her door – his was further down the corridor.

"You bet! Tomorrow, I want to see the royal residence!"

"Do you know the way there?"

"Nope."

He matched her grin. "Sounds like fun."

  
-*--*-

Whoop! Next chapter spoiler: it's called "Departure". I'm in a tiny block right now, but it is cooking. Slow progress is better than none... ^_^

Review responses:

Smack54: Good to hear you like this story so far! I hope this chapter answered a couple of your questions: Judeau and Samina are not intimate; they're just two sociable people who happened to hit it off – i.e. friends.  
nada: So was this chapter as gawp-able as you hoped? ^_^  
gundamgirl66: Please don't be mad at me for not answering your question… I recommend that you read "Description of the Berserk world" by Ramza Lionheart further down on the "Berserk" page, and the boy's name is Rickert. Forgive me?  
Hott: You know you are a super person, right? Now tell me what I missed. ;)  
Rose: Hello! I am so pleased to hear that you are hooked, please continue that. ^__^ (I like dwarves, they shouldn't be only comic relief – they are way too cool!)

Maybe I shouldn't rant so much…

***!!!!!*** Thank you Hott, who pointed out that Samina was OOC, and was right about that. Many thanks for the heads-up on the speech tags, too!

Also thanks to White_Aster for more invaluable help. You guys are the best! 


	8. Departure

So sorry for the long delay, I got sick, blocked and then a job ...that tried to eat me alive. By way of compensation, this chappie is a long one, too. Some group interaction, some mechanics and details of the world... and suchthings. Hopefully entertaining, hopefully worth the wait... ^_^;

Disclaimer: I don't own Judeau, I only wish I did.

...Mmmmm.... ^_^

This chapter begins, as the title implies, on the very last day of the week in the Great City. I may well need to revise this chapter later, but for now, it's up. *whew*

-*--*-

  


Chapter eight: Departure

"Turn around."

Judeau obeyed, flexing his joints, surprised at how little the new armour impaired his movements. The two dwarves stood grinning at him, Steelwing watched dispassionately and Samina studied him with pretend criticism. He turned to face them again.

"How does it look?"

Samina nodded sagely. "Dashing. Absolutely dashing. Congratulations, Taskkarr; it's another masterpiece."

The dwarf smith pulled himself up in his entire, though not so impressive, height and beamed with pride. "Indeed it is! After all, it was forged by a dwarven master smith!" Thirgynn cleared his throat and Taskkarr immediately added; "With a talented assistant, of course."

Nodding contentedly, Thirgynn turned to Judeau. "How does it fit?"

"Like a glove." The scout flexed his fingers in the gauntlets with a grin. "Literally."

"Really?" Taskkarr frowned a little and walked up to Judeau, feeling along the lower rim of the cuirass. "Hmm... no, it is as I wanted it. Are you sure that it fits that well?"

"Uh, yes... isn't it supposed to?"

"Well, yes, of course it is good that you feel that it does... but I made it with some room for you to grow in, since I figured you were still recovering from your wounds."

"You have? ...Wow, it really feels like it's moulded after... no, more like it's a part of me."

Taskkarr scratched his head. "That's strange..."

"Now, now, Taskkarr," Samina said with a smile, "Keep in mind that Mr Judeau has only been wearing human-forged armour up until now. Of the standard kind, if I am not mistaken."

The dwarf slapped his forehead lightly. "Ah, of course. I forgot about that. You humans have never had the patience to learn the deeper secrets of the metals and fire - Only bothering to learn enough so you can throw together some crude things, as long as you can make them fast."

"Mr Taskkarr, I'd say that you got _this_ done pretty quickly," Judeau pointed out, "Just one week... and then you had to make Shammael's things and my weapons as well."

The dwarf grunted and folded his arms over his chest. "Well. I am a master. And we did work day and night. But just because we were in a hurry doesn't mean that the things are of any less quality, mind you."

Judeau shook his head. "I didn't say that."

The armour was quite too nice to be of anything but the very highest quality; besides the surprisingly delightful fit it was also pleasing to the eye, with a streamlined design and pure, elegant lines. Over the chest and the topmost part of the pauldrons it had a simple engraving, depicting the silhouette of a bird-of-prey in flight, vaguely visible against the blackened steel.

"I really like this dull black colour, it's ideal for scouting missions..." Judeau mused out loud.

"Yes, well, I overheard you talking to Samina before, when you said you were one of those sneaky-hidey types, so I figured you'd like that," Taskkarr said with a self-satisfied grin.

"Sneaky-...? You mean a scout?"

The dwarf shrugged indifferently. "Scout, thief, hunter, assassin... whatever."

Judeau studied the stout little man before him. It was even harder to believe what Samina had told him earlier about the dwarf, when he was standing before him like this. 

He briefly recalled the conversation:

'Oh, I've been meaning to ask you... sorry if I'm being nosy, but can you tell me why Mr Taskkarr gets to keep his weapons inside the City?'

She had regarded him thoughtfully for a little while, before answering hesitantly; 'I don't know if I should... he trusts me, and would be very disappointed if he found out I'd told you...'

He had nodded his acceptance to this. 'Okay, I understand.'

'But...' She had raised a finger and gotten an almost sly look in her eyes. '...I could give you a hint... You are a scout, correct?'

'Yes...?'

'So you have an almost conditioned reflex to observe and remember even what seem like insignificant details?'

'I... guess so...'

'So... have you noticed that some people do carry weapons?'

The realisation of what she had been getting at had started to stir in his subconscious. It was indeed something he had noticed himself, but he hadn't made the full connection before. He had nodded for her to go on, feeling the understanding begin to form.

'They are all feather-heads, right?' She had said this less like a question, and more like she was stating a fact. 'Feather-head' was her word for nobleman, due to the fashion that at least the Ducarri noble had of putting large, poofy, colourful feathers in their hats. Judeau had finally made the connection, and given the scar-faced woman an astonished stare.

'You're saying that... Taskkarr is a noble?'

She had giggled, 'You don't have to sound so surprised, Mr Judeau. He is a dwarf after all, so he doesn't have to be all prissy and snobbish... in fact, he shouldn't be.'

'But... but...' He had desperately tried to fit his mental image of the dwarf around anything he had ever associated with nobility. '...But - isn't he a demon hunter? ...And a blacksmith?'

Samina had nodded, still with an amused smile. 'Yes, Mr Judeau, but he is also very old... in years. He started out as a blacksmith apprentice - most dwarves begin their careers as some kind of craftsman – then he became a demon hunter, and then he _earned_ his nobility. Dwarven society values deeds far more than blood, at least in terms of nobility and leadership.'

'Really...?' Remembering how hard against the advancement of the Hawks the nobles of Midland had been, no matter how many battles they had won, Judeau hadn't been able to keep a wry smile from his lips. 'I wonder what he did...'

Samina had suddenly gotten an air of weariness and rubbed her temples. 'Oh... He killed a couple of demons and saved something important. Please don't make me recount that story; I've heard it so _very_ many times. If you're really, really into getting your ears talked off, you can ask Taskkarr... when he's got his beard back... if you should choose to join our team, that is.'

Looking at the heavily muscled dwarf smith now, Judeau once again wondered exactly what it was that Taskkarr had done to earn a title - and just how old he could be. He didn't seem to be much older than mid thirties/early forties …and he sure as hell didn't look like _any_ kind of noble. 

Judeau chuckled inwardly; it would have been really interesting to be able to introduce nobledwarf Taskkarr to the Lords and Ladies of Windham, that was for sure. He could just picture their faces...

"What are you smiling at, manling?" the dwarf in question growled with a sudden scowl.

Judeau smoothly switched to his best disarming smile. "Just enjoying this incredible new armour, that's all. Can I see the helmet now?"

Those were apparently the magic words, because all traces of the scowl immediately evaporated, replaced by an almost childish eagerness as the dwarf produced a helmet that matched the rest of the armour.

"Crouch, boy, so I can show you how it works."

Judeau could easily see how the helmet was constructed and had already figured out how to fasten it, but the dwarf had such a happy, eager gleam in his eyes that he just couldn't not humour him. Taskkarr placed the helmet on the scout's head almost as if he was crowning a king, and explained carefully how to close the cheek guards and tie the strap under the chin. Judeau 'oh':ed and 'aha':ed in appropriate places, to the dwarf's apparent satisfaction.

"And see here," he rumbled excitedly and traced the outline of Judeau's face with a meaty finger, "It's the bird-design again! See? Your eyes are in the wings, and your mouth in the tail. Nice touch, eh?"

"But headless..." commented Samina, and Taskkarr turned a surprisingly offended glare at her.

"It's supposed to be, woman! If it had had a head then his forehead would be left unprotected!"

Samina raised her hands up in front of herself. "Yes, yes, I know, I get that. It was just a casual observation, I didn't mean anything by it."

"Mr Taskkarr," Judeau interrupted, "this helmet is amazing! I can see almost as well as if I didn't have it on at all! I've never had a helmet with such good vision, that also protected the face so well."

The proud grin returned to the dwarf's features. "I told you I thought about your specialisation."

"Well, you've done a great job, Mr Taskkarr, I really mean it."

"Thank you." Somehow the dwarf smith made it sound like he was granting Judeau a boon by thanking him, and the scout had to hide another amused smile behind a cough.

Next he was presented with his weapons, and they held the same high quality as the armour; they fit in his hands as if they had always belonged there and were carefully balanced – the knives were a pure joy to hold.

He had explained at an earlier visit to the smithy how he wanted to carry the scabbards of the scimitars on his back, and now Thirgynn presented him with a leather contraption that much resembled what he had had in mind, but it was also equipped with a belt of holsters for his knives – that, he was pleasantly surprised to find, would fit sideways across his chest the way he was used to.

He fastened it over the armour as Thirgynn almost sheepishly looked on.

"Um... I'm merely an apprentice in leather crafting, so you could probably get something better than that... but I thought it would at least do for the moment..."

He smiled happily at the concerned dwarf. "It's perfect, Mr Thirgynn. Thank you so much."

The miracle-worker frowned. "No, perfect it is not. I know that, so don't lie... But if you are happy with it, then I am pleased."

"I am happy with it, very happy."

A small, proud smile crept onto Thirgynn's face. "Then you are welcome."

"Here," Taskkarr said, reaching up and placing knives in the holsters, "I know you said that you only wanted four, but I made you ten. That way you'll have some backups if you lose them... and ten is a better, more even number." He paused for a moment. "...And they were easy and fun to make."

"I... I'm at a loss for words..."

"That's unusual," Samina commented with an eyebrow raised in amusement, but then her features softened into a simple smile. "Just say 'thank you'."

"No need," Taskkarr said determinedly, "this was payment, after all."

Judeau turned to the two dwarves. "Nonetheless, Mr Taskkarr, Mr Thirgynn, you have worked very hard and you've presented me with the best equipment I have ever owned." He bowed to them as he would have bowed to any nobleman in Midland, but with much more sincerity. "Thank you."

The two dwarves exchanged pleased looks and Taskkarr said something in dwarfish that had Thirgynn nod in agreement. Samina spoke up:

"So, have you thought about it, Mr Judeau?"

"About what?"

"What we talked about before... what you're going to do now."

"Ah... yes." He turned to the entire group and uncertainly cleared his throat.

"If it's possible, I would like to travel with you – at least for a while. It would make things easier for me, since I think I may need some help to get accustomed to this new world, and you already know that I'm from another place... Um... in return I'll add my fighting skills to yours..." He shrugged. "I don't have much else to give... Is this acceptable to you?"

A short, contemplative silence ensued, and was broken by Samina:

"I'll vouch for him, if you want that. He's a good man, and he can fight well."

"You know that for sure?" Taskkarr inquired, "It's very important that all members of this group can fend for themselves. You know that we keep running into really dangerous situations, sometimes too dangerous for your average soldier. If this human isn't strong enough to face down those kind of threats then it will affect the whole group, since we are such a small team, and we really can't afford that." He glanced back at Judeau. "I mean, yes, we know that he's honourable and that he's been in fights before... but so far I have only seen proof of him being able to take a lot of damage and, well, that's certainly good, but it doesn't prove a thing about his _fighting_ skills. He has to be able to deal out some punishment, too, if he's going to be on our team."

"He's good enough," Steelwing interjected calmly, "from what I have seen, at least."

Taskkarr and Thirgynn looked from the elf to Judeau, and then to each other. Thirgynn shrugged and spoke some more dwarfish, to which Taskkarr nodded agreeably and turned to Judeau.

"Well, it seems it's settled, then. You are welcome to travel with us for as long as you please."

Samina grinned most brilliantly and stepped up to him, taking his hand in a firm grip.

"Welcome to the team, Mr Judeau. I'm glad you decided to join."

"So am I," said Steelwing and stood up. The dwarves and the humans all turned to stare at him, and he raised an eyebrow at them before turning to Samina.

"His presence might keep the dwarves from rubbing off so much on you. Two are quite enough, after all."

Samina's smile was disbelieving, as if she didn't dare to laugh for fear of waking up. "Steelwing... did you just ...make a joke?"

The tall elf's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "I am being deathly serious, I assure you."

Her face turned into a very interesting display of grimaces as she tried to contain her laughter, giving off small, desperate sounds when she almost failed. The two dwarves were better at containing their amusement, even if Taskkarr kept giving off long, snorting noises and Thirgynn kept pinching his own nose. Judeau tried very hard not to get carried away in the atmosphere of general mirth, but had to turn away and hide a small chuckle when Steelwing rolled his eyes in a very human why-oh-why-will-they-not-take-me-seriously manner.

  
*  
As they walked out through the huge gates of the Great City, they could see the sun begin to rise over the far horizon. It reminded Judeau of how early it really was, and he suppressed a small yawn; the dwarves had insisted that they'd get an early start... Which was understandable, he guessed - After all, 'beards were at stake'.

Samina's finger made a soft tap-tap-tap on his pauldron, and he hesitantly looked away from the pale golden dawn.

"Do you have a steed?" she asked.

"No... I rode here on Shammael's spare horse, why?"

"Well, we're going to get ours now... and you will need one, since we all ride... but I suppose they're too expensive for you right now..." She looked away in contemplation for a moment. "Ah, but we don't have much baggage right now, so you can ride the pack-pony. If that's okay with you...?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Good, great. Now, I just have one more question before we get to the stables... have you ever seen a murvelbeast before?"

"A what?"

"Okay, let me rephrase that; what kinds of steeds do they use in the world you're from?"

"Horses...?"

"Only horses?" She sounded so surprised that Judeau almost began doubting it himself. He searched his mind, but couldn't remember ever seeing anyone ride another creature than a horse.

"Uh... I've heard of elephants and camels... and then there are mules and donkeys of course... but what kinds of creatures do you ride?"

"Oh, here there are very many different kinds of mounts. Though most of them are horses and horsekin, there are also creatures like runner-birds and murvelbeasts... some say there are those who tame griffins and lesser dragons, but I've never seen one ridden... But we as a group ride murvelbeasts, except for Steelwing who has an elfhorse, and our packer, which is a pony."

"Really? Birds? Griffins? Dragons?" He gazed off at nothing, smiling to himself. "What an interesting world..."

She gave a small shake of her head. "You're really something, aren't you? Instead of getting uneasy when you learn of great differences from what you are used to, such as these, you start daydreaming about them." She chuckled and gazed off at the sunrise as he looked back at her.

"Where would uneasiness get me?" he asked, still smiling. "I think this way makes it both easier and more fun to adapt to new things." He shrugged and followed her gaze. "Just keep thinking positive, that's all."

"Yeah..." her voice still carried a smile, but it suddenly sounded subdued and distant, "That's all, isn't it?"

He glanced over at her and found the most peculiar, thoughtful and sad little smile on her face for a short moment, before she seemed to shake off her reverie and turned to him again, flashing him a quick grin.

"Just... one thing; since you haven't seen a murvelbeast before, don't be frightened of them. They may look fearsome, but they're just big, cuddly kittens, really."

  
_Big cuddly kittens, yeah _right_!_ Judeau pressed his back against the outer wall of the stable as Thirgynn, Taskkarr and Samina came out, each leading a huge beast by reins that seemed very thin and frail in comparison.

The murvelbeasts mostly resembled big dogs, but had such a heavy build and were of such size that they could just as well have been some kind of bear-hybrid. Their huge, padded paws were clawed and their fur looked thick and shaggy. From the top of their heads protruded curved rams' horns and as one of the beasts yawned mightily, Judeau became acutely aware of the rather impressive size of its fangs.

The pack-pony Samina was leading by her other hand was surprisingly undisturbed by the presence of the predators, all of which were easily its own size, and just lazily flicked an ear when one of the beasts gave a fearsome growl at another.

"_Kzat!_" Taskkarr immediately gave the growling beast a wallop on the chin that would have broken a normal person's jaw, and the dark brown creature gave a startled yelp, then whimpered and hung its head as if in shame.

"He's restless..." the dwarf grumbled quietly, before leaning in closer to the creature and muttering soothing dwarfish words in its furry ear.

Thirgynn checked the saddle on his wolf-grey mount and began stuffing his things into the saddle-bags as Samina walked over to Judeau with the already saddled pony – and her own beast – in tow. Judeau hoped to high heaven that murvelbeasts couldn't smell fear the way dogs could, and tried to discreetly press his back through the wall. The damned thing wouldn't yield.

"Here you go." Samina held out the reins to the pony with a smile. "Meet Packer. Packer, meet Judeau."

Desperate to distract himself from the big, furry muzzle that was making snuffling sounds in his direction, Judeau took the reins. "You... you call him Packer?"

"Yes, I tried to name him 'Charlie', but the dwarves couldn't see the point of naming a pack-beast, and Steelwing didn't care, so now he only listens to 'Packer'." She turned a little and pointed with her now free hand at the mostly cream-white beast behind her. "And this is Kariss. He's not as bad as he looks. Hold out your hand and let him say 'hi'."

"Uh… I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

The beast was getting closer now, slowly edging up to stand more beside Samina than behind her, all the while snuffling at Judeau.

"Are you sure? He's very curious and won't leave you alone until he's had a good sniff at you - and believe me, you don't want to wake up with _this_ snout in your face in the middle of the night."

He shot her an annoyed glance. "You have a way of calming people down, you know."

She grinned evilly at him before retrieving something from a small pouch on Kariss' saddle. 

"Here, give him this and he will love you forever." She pressed the small, round item into his hand, and he glanced at it.

A hazelnut?

_Right. Sure. Why not? ...All right, here goes nothing._

"Here, boy... nice... beastie..."

With a glance up at Samina and a small nod from her, the huge creature lumbered up to him and began a careful, snuffling examination of his hand. He felt a large, warm tongue wrap around the fingers holding the nut, and hastily let it go. Kariss' strong jaws worked a little as its nose continued its thorough examination up his arm and chest, to finally, with a little stretch of the beast's neck, leave a big, wet noseprint on Judeau's cheek before withdrawing, apparently satisfied.

Judeau exhaled slowly, until the creature forcefully butted its head against his stomach. If he hadn't been wearing his armour, he feared he might have broken a rib.

"Kariss! _Kzat!_" Samina yanked the reins so suddenly and forcefully that the creature was pulled back two full steps. She grabbed its ear and held on tightly. "I'm sorry about that, are you okay?"

Judeau held a hand to his stomach, more shocked than hurt. "Phoo... yeah... I thought you said he was going to love me forever?"

"Yeah, he just wanted you to scratch him between the horns, he didn't think about the fact that you were standing against a wall and could accidentally get crushed to death!" The last part was said to the creature in an angry voice that seemed to hurt it just as much as the death-grip on its ear. It whined softly and Samina leaned down beside it, releasing her grip.

"You've got to play nice with humans, Kari, you know that. You've got to be careful, or else we'll break. We've talked about this, don't you remember? Hm? You know what I'm talking about. Yes you do. Play nice."

The beast turned its head to her and gently rubbed its muzzle against her arm. A couple of soothing words later, Kariss almost shyly turned back to Judeau, bowing its head.

"Now you can scratch him. Reward him for being such a good boy and asking nicely."

Judeau tentatively reached out and scratched the offered forehead. Its fur was exactly as thick and coarse at it looked.

"You've got to put more effort into it, they've got very thick skin," Samina told him softly, and he pressed down harder. The beast began pressing its forehead upwards into his touch, and a very, very low sound – almost not a sound at all and more like a deep vibration – began rumbling from its massive chest.

Samina smiled a genuine, sparkling smile. "See? He loves you!"

Judeau had to let out a small laugh. "I take it that he's purring...?" Samina nodded and Judeau continued to scratch the beast for a while. Maybe they weren't so scary, after all. This one was actually kind of cute... but...

"Why do you ride these things instead of horses?"

Samina opened her mouth to answer, but Thirgynn had overheard and beat her to it:

"For several reasons, Mr Judeau. First of all: Murvelbeasts may not be as fast as horses, but they are stronger and in many cases braver; where a horse will panic and attempt to escape, a murvelbeast will stay and fight. And that's the second thing: A murvelbeast can assist you in a battle in more ways than a horse; they have fangs, claws and horns to add to their size. Murvels are also more resistant to different climates, and can carry a much heavier load than a normal horse."

Judeau nodded his understanding. "Ok, I get it."

Samina leaned in closer to the scout and spoke so quietly that it was almost a whisper, "And then there's the fact that the murvelbeast is a dwarven steed; dwarves are the only ones who breed these creatures, and if they need to ride, they will always, always choose a murvel. There's a reason for this." Her voice dropped even lower and he had to lean closer to hear:

"All dwarves suffer from a monstrous seasickness. As soon as whatever they are standing, sitting or laying on begins to move, to sway from side to side, they are reduced to little more than helpless babies. All they can do is throw up and pray. The murvel is the only steed in the known world that doesn't rock, sway or bob while walking, and even when they run, they are steady enough to reduce nausea to a minimum."

He had to suppress a snicker, and answered her in an equally silent voice, "Really? Then I understand even better."

He saw his own amusement mirrored in her eyes as a ray of sunlight found its way in between the houses to shine directly in her face - and suddenly he noticed another asymmetrical aspect of it. "Hey..."

Her amusement faded a little. "What?"

He pointed in surprise. "Your eyes... they're..."

"...Different coloured, I know." Her smile returned. "It took you a week to notice that?"

"Yeah, apparently," he chuckled, "It must have been the light inside the City or something."

"Maybe." She shrugged. "But the difference is subtle, I know. One green, one blue... Actually, some people never notice at all." Then she smiled jokingly. "So, are you the superstitious sort? Will you drag me off and burn me at the stakes because I am 'witch-marked'?"

He pretended to consider the matter seriously.

"Hmmm… Nah. I'll let you live, for now. Otherwise I think your friends would try to stop me, and that could get messy...." He casually waved a hand as if the thought of spilling a lot of blood was a small matter that utterly bored him and was rewarded by Samina's short laugh and a backhanded slap on the shoulder.

"Hey, you two! Are you quite ready to leave yet?" Taskkarr's deep voice interrupted impatiently. A quick look told Judeau that the two dwarves were already packed and mounted and waiting to get on the way. He quickly flashed them an apologetic grin and stuffed his own meagre things into one saddlebag before sitting up. 

And then Steelwing came out of the stable, mounted on a horse that looked... off, somehow. It seemed too slender, its legs were too long, its nose too short and slim and its eyes were too large. It looked unrealistically fast, too; slim, trim and streamlined.

Judeau began to understand what Samina had meant when she said 'horsekin'; this creature looked a lot like a horse and might behave much like one, but he got the distinct impression that it was indeed a different kind of animal.

Its coat was dappled in different shades of grey, short and smooth – almost shiny, and its movements were impatient, as though it was about to break into a gallop at any moment. It stood in stark contrast to the heavy, hulking murvelbeasts, in much the same way as the tall, slim elf contrasted against the two short, bulky dwarves.

...And _there_ was a man who looked like a noble. Mounted on the slender, eager elfhorse, the first rays of the morning sun glinting off his beautiful armour, Steelwing looked every bit the shining champion of goodness from a fairy tale - almost royal in the way he carried himself and the ease with which he controlled his steed. The only thing that slightly marred the pure image he made was the ever-present cold, focused edge in his eyes.

_This guy and Griffith... so much alike in so many ways, and yet somehow... not..._

"Took you long enough!" Taskkarr's deep, grumpy voice interrupted Judeau's train of thought, "A few more minutes and we would've left without you!"

Steelwing rode up next to the dwarf and raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure you would."

Samina turned in her saddle, giving everyone a bright smile. "Everybody ready? Then what are we waiting for, let's meet up with the healer!"

She clicked her tongue and Kariss began moving. Steelwing loosed the reins of his horse a little and rode up beside her, the two of them taking the lead. When the elf came up abreast with her, the dark-haired woman turned to look at him. For a short moment a strange, communicative silence hung in the air between them, and then she smiled. A simple but warm and cheerful smile – and something softened in the Crusader's features. He wasn't returning her smile, but it was the closest thing to one that Judeau had seen on the elf's face.

_I wonder what those two really are to each other..._

A sudden chill came over him, and for a moment he saw two other people riding in front of him. A shorthaired woman with fiery, dark eyes and a sword by her side – and a white-haired man as bright as the morning sun.

_All these uncanny similarities, all these strange déjà vu's... what have I gotten myself into? Is fate playing a cruel trick on me? Am I walking down that same road again?_

"Keep up, boy!" Taskkarr's booming voice smashed through Judeau's reverie, and he turned a startled look at the dwarf smith. An expectant, almost triumphant grin shone on Taskkarr's face, and he was making impatient, waving gestures at Judeau. "It is finally time to leave!"

_...No..._ he thought as he rode up alongside the two dwarves, returning their smiles, _...it's different from then. It's not the same, it's different._

  
*  
Shammael had made camp about half an hour's ride from the Great City as soon as he was finished with his own business, and Judeau and Samina had spent a day helping him pack and move so they would know where to find him. 

The group arrived just as the sun rose high enough to peek over the treetops of the small patch of woods behind the Healer's tent and were immediately greeted by an exuberant Tail – who didn't seem to pay the murvelbeasts any heed. That dog just didn't have a sense of self-preservation.

After rousing a reluctant Shammael and helping him pack up (With many an impatient, grumbling 'you could have done this before we came' from the dwarves), they could finally begin their journey back to the Healer's deep forest home.

  
*  
The travel was easy, and as the sun began to set they stopped and made camp for the night. Samina had two small tents that would each either fit two people snugly or two dwarves comfortably, and the Healer had a tent that was bigger – more of a home-away-from-home type – that could be made to fit four people, if all they would do would be to sleep. The group's first consideration was who were going to sleep where.

"No problem," Taskkarr declared, "We set up the big tent. Thirgynn and me are of a much better and more manageable size than you longlings, so we will only take up one sleeping spot."

Shammael furrowed his impressive eyebrows at the dwarf. "But that only accounts for five of us."

"Yes, I am aware of that, manling. We only need five sleeping spots; Samina and Steelwing will take turns on the night guard."

The Healer snorted. "There's no need for a night guard. I'm with you."

Taskkarr crossed his arms over his barrel chest, giving the old man a very dubious look. "Oh, re-eally? And what protection, pray tell, does an old, human healer provide here in the country of the snake dragons and the giant boars?"

Put off by the insulting, doubtful tone of the dwarf's voice, Shammael crossed his arms as well and glared down his nose at the short smith.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

A silent staring-contest ensued between the two of them, until suddenly Samina snapped her fingers and interrupted the mounting tension:

"Ah! It's your birthright, isn't it? You are one of those born with an innate magic, 'gifted and stunted in a magical nature' as the scholars say… Am I right?"

Shammael nodded, surprised. Samina continued, smiling eagerly:

"I should've guessed; you've got all the qualities: an intense dislike for cities and crowds, an affinity for animals and ...some trouble socialising with complicated creatures like humans."

The Healer fully turned to the woman, confusedly tilting his head to the side with a frown.

"How do you know all these things, girl?"

"I... have had a reason to study birthrights."

Shammael's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "And what reason would that be, then?"

"Hold it!" Taskkarr stepped in between the two humans, making a cutting motion with his hand. "I want to know how his Healer-gift can keep us safe without a night guard!"

Samina gave the Healera slightly uncertain smile. "Do you want to, or should I...?"

Shammael nodded at her. "Tell me what you know."

"All right. Most all birthrights carry some side effects that may or may not seem logical in relation with the real nature of the 'gift'. In the case of Healing, the side effects are those I mentioned before, as well as an indefinable aura that will, in a way, repel creatures of ill intentions, and attract good, well-meaning creatures such as fairies, gnomes and most animals, _but_ – The more complex the creature, the easier the aura is to ignore. Humans, dwarves, elves... under prolonged exposure to the aura, they may begin to feel subtly relaxed and at peace, or tense and uneasy, depending on their own nature – but nothing more than that." She looked up at the gaping Healer with an uncertain smile. "Did I get it right?"

"Lord of Beasts, girl! Where did you learn that?"

"My old mentor taught me how to read... and I've been reading all the books I could find on this..." A small, embarrassed blush had crept onto her features. "Too scholar-ish, was it?"

"Uh, Yeah... I was just going to say something like; 'beasts don't want to eat me, and those who do tend to avoid the place where I'm at.'"

She gave a small, embarrassed laugh and sheepishly studied the ground beneath her feet. "...Yeah, that works too."

"Nevertheless," Steelwing interrupted, "It is better to be on the safe side. I shall take the first watch."

"But you _don't have_ to!" Shammael irately exclaimed.

"It's okay, Mr Shammael," Samina interjected, "Steelwing and I only sleep for four hours a night, anyway."

Shammael gave her a confused, disbelieving look. "How?"

Steelwing answered first:

"Elves can choose not to dream at night. This shortens the time we require to sleep."

The Healer's expression didn't change as he turned to the elf. "Really? Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

Steelwing shrugged indifferently. "If we do it for too long it may make us detached and asocial."

Judeau raised an eyebrow. _Oh, I see… For how many years have you been doing that?_

Shammael's expression mirrored Judeau's thoughts, but the Healer wisely chose not to comment, either. Instead, he turned to Samina.

"And you?"

She shrugged as well. "I don't know, actually. I dream and all, but I've been sleeping only four or five hours a night for as long as I can remember. It may be a side-effect to _my_ Birthright."

Shammael's eyes lit up with understanding. "So _that's_ why you've been studying them, huh? What gift do you have?"

The scar-faced woman gave a small twitch, as if she had been caught by surprise, and the faint blush on her cheeks paled and disappeared.

"Ah, I... Um... I meant... Well, it's... a really rare gift. Very rare. Um." She looked away and Judeau noticed that she was nervously fiddling with a strap on her morningstar. "It's called... the gift of the Void. That's all I really know about it."

Shammael thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Hm. Never heard of that one. How does it..."

"Yes," Samina suddenly and almost cheerfully interrupted, "I honestly think that I am the only one now living who has it, and I've only found it mentioned once in a very, very old book we recovered from the secret library of a mad magician we had to kill. It only said that 'the Void is the infinite space between universes' and I'll be snoggered if I know what that means. I bet that mage did, though, but we didn't have the opportunity to chit-chat."

The Healer blinked a couple of times, apparently having some trouble following the bounty hunter's sentences.

"Huh?"

"Well, all his books were on magical phenomena and weird sciences, so he must have known a whole lot about all kinds of things. But... you know... he was mad. Stark, raving insane - and quite uncommunicative."

"...Oh?" The old man shook his head as if to clear it. "Now, wait, I was going to ask you..."

"How we killed him?" she interrupted again with a bright smile, "Oh, that's actually an interesting story, you see, we were..."

Judeau frowned to himself as Samina went on with her story and Shammael became more and more engrossed in it, almost against his will.

_She fast-talked him. Not very skilfully, but then you don't have to be skilful to fast-talk Shammael..._

...But she obviously doesn't want to talk about her 'birthright'...

He glanced over at the others. Thirgynn was busying himself with the building of a fireplace, giving off a very obvious aura of 'minding my own business, don't pay attention to me'. Steelwing had begun unfolding the Healer's big tent and didn't seem to even be noticing the one-sided conversation behind him, but when Judeau's eyes met Taskkarr's the serious warning glare he received was startling in its intensity, and confirmed what the scout had suspected:

_They all know... either what the 'birthright' is, or at least why she doesn't want anyone else to know about it._ He met Taskkarr's intense glare for a moment, and then gave a small nod of confirmation. _Right, I get it; it's none of my business. I won't ask._

The dwarf kept his eyes locked on Judeau's for a little longer, then nodded curtly and went over to help Steelwing with the tent. Judeau stole another quick glance over at Samina and the Healer before joining the elf and the dwarf.

_I'm still curious, though... but no, the thought of it seems to make her uneasy. It would be insensitive to ask about it._

He shrugged inwardly. _Maybe she'll tell me herself, eventually. After all, we're going to be a team for a while._

  
*  
And Judeau found to his slight surprise that it wasn't at all hard to become part of this odd team. As they gathered around the fire for supper, the conversation was very easy and he was as much a part of it as any of the others – with the exception of Steelwing who, true to himself, kept to making a few, dry remarks here and there. Even Shammael was soon laughing and telling stories.

It felt so much like being with the guys from the Band of the Hawk again – in the good old days, when they were still the youngest and most feared band of mercenaries in all of Midland – that Judeau automatically relaxed, filled with a happiness that was part good memories, part response to the uncomplicated way the dwarves and Samina included him in their conversations and jokes. It seemed as though to them, everything had been settled when he had been accepted into the team, and they were treating him almost as if they'd known each other for years.

Steelwing, however... sometimes, Judeau would catch the elf's eyes across the fire. The light played strangely in those grey orbs and their gaze was always unreadable, but Judeau still got the distinct impression that in the Crusader's eyes, he still had something to prove before he could be trusted. If ever he could be.

  
~  
Whether it was due to Shammaels aura or just some kind of luck, they travelled for three days without any dramatic occurrences or encounters with the infamous Ducarri wildlife. 

Judeau was adapting nicely to the group, just as Samina had suspected that he would, but she found it a little surprising that she would enjoy his company as much as she did. His optimism was refreshing after so many days and months of harsh, dwarven realism and Steelwing's indifferent fatalism, and his easy smile was a very pleasant change from Steelwing's ever so subtle expressions and the dwarven either-a-scowl-or-a-grin attitude.

She hadn't realised how much she'd missed human company.

...And she knew that though she might be able to steer the old Healer clear from any attempt to make her talk about her Birthright, Judeau was not as easily duped. He must know that she was keeping it a secret from him, and she felt a little ashamed at what he might think about that – especially since he was being very nice about not asking anything.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him; if there were anything she was sure of about this man, it was his trustworthiness. No, she would tell him what it was, just not right now. They were still getting to know each other, after all, and it would be much better if he knew her properly first.

She would tell him, eventually. Sooner or later, she would have to.

But she wasn't looking forward to it.

  
-*--*-

Oooh, foreshadowing! *cue dramatic thunder*

Now that I have a job, I don't know how often I can update, though... let's say one chap a month, and it'll be a nice surprise if I can do it more often. ^_^; *don't kill me...*  
It is so very, very nice to know that I am able to entertain someone beside my biased RL friends. Keep reviewing!  
And yes, that means those of you who don't like this fic, too. I want every opinion! (Flames will be pointed and laughed at, though. Try constructive criticism instead.)

And reviewer responses:

nada: Good! Tell me if I'm losing gawpability at any point, Ok?  
Berzerkerprime: You told your friend about my ficcy? You think it's that good? ^__^ ---Look at this happy face!  
Rose: *bows* Thank you! I do try to give my characters some character. Makes for more interesting OC's, don't you agree? ;)  
Hawk Dreas: Thank you and sorry I kept you waiting.  
Smack54: The elf has a personality... sort of... Um.  
Stargazer Nataku: Thank you, thank you! I hope you are still reading… I gave you a bad first impression of myself, being blocked like this… ^_^;;  
Julia: Ah, the infamous Google-search... It makes you kind of sad to see how little fan-support there is for this gorgeous character, no?  
Gorgonzola: You rock, I love long reviews! Here was some dwarfishness for you, I hope it can sustain you 'til next time!  
And Hott, your help is invaluable. Thank you for everything. Now review. ;)

I realised I worry too much. Just write the darn thing, there is no nobel prize for fanfiction anyway. 


	9. Nightmare

Disclaimer: Ya know… I'm going to discontinue these now. You all know what I don't own, and if you need a brush-up, there are eight earlier chapters that have disclaimers – go check them. OK? OK.

And thus, without further ado, I give you…

-*--*-

Chapter nine: Nightmare

Samina used a fresh log to scoot the embers of the campfire closer together, before she added the wood to the flames and leaned back. It was a little bit colder these nights than it had been before their stay in the Great City, and nature was beginning to show the first faint signs of autumn.

Like this patch of woods they had set up camp in, for protection from wind and spying eyes. It was mostly made up of dark evergreens, but the occasional birch would carry small spots of gold, and the leaves of the few maples were faintly lined with orange.

She glanced over at the prone form of Steelwing and suppressed a small sigh. The oncoming chill did nothing to discourage the elf, who as usual had unfolded his bedroll outside on the ground, just at the edge of the firelight.

Was that just another way of keeping his distance to the rest of them? Samina frowned absently. He was such a hard man to read… his most superficial expressions would be as subtle as if they were his innermost thoughts – unless he meant for them to be more obvious – and the quick glimpses she might get on what was going on beneath the surface were as few and far between as they were confusing.

But, then again, why bother about it – After all, she knew enough to trust him. Allowing that train of thought to trail off, she gazed off into the night and scanned the soft ripples of high, moonlit grass and softly rustling branches with practised ease. Nothing. No sounds, nor movements out of place.

Not that she expected there to be anything. In these past three nights of sleeping out on the vast Ducarri plain, she hadn't seen anything more than old, faded tracks of the beasts and large predators that inhabited it. It did indeed seem as though the Healer's aura worked as well as she had thought.

But now she had come to realise that this tranquillity was actually making her edgy. She wasn't used to having nothing to keep her eye out for, and the night was just too quiet – she couldn't help but feel as though it was some kind of build-up, as if a huge, terrible beast waited just beyond her line of vision, crouching, preparing, ready to pounce…

Samina slapped herself lightly to expel those unnerving thoughts._ Ugh,_ _I'm getting paranoid! Why, gods curse it, can't I just enjoy the stillness?_

A small voice answered, whispering in the back of her head:

_Because you're out in the wilderness. You know you don't belong here, city girl - you're not on top of these predators… and it's not supposed to feel this safe._

She found herself twiddling with the strap of her morningstar, and snatched her hand away with an annoyed snort. She was not supposed to have such obvious nervous habits, either.

Once again her gaze returned to the sleeping elf, and she watched the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest for a while. 

_Ok, so I may be getting paranoid, but at least I'm not as far gone as him… _

Steelwing slept without a blanket, fully dressed and with his cuirass and helmet close by, ready to be snapped on with a minute's notice. His twin swords were laying on the ground beside him, one on each side, within easy reach and already loose in their scabbards. 

Of course, that's how he always slept. Always ready for trouble, always ready to spring into action – and she really shouldn't be calling him paranoid for it, as it had probably saved all of their lives on more than one occasion. 

Indeed, danger could come leaping out at any moment - especially at night, outdoors, if you dropped your guard for just a second…

Suddenly her heart jumped. _Wait, what was that? _

There had been a sound - very faint, but definitely out of place. She looped the morningstar's strap around her wrist and tightened it while she strained her ears, to try to catch that sound again, and what direction it had come from. Adrenaline began trickling into her system, further sharpening her senses.

There. It was a little bit louder now, a soft, quiet whimper, as if from someone in pain or grief. She looked around, trying to be as subtle as possible about it. The sound was coming from… the tent?

_Aahhh…_ Samina's shoulders slumped in relief. _Someone's just having a nightmare._ She smiled and berated herself for getting so worked up over nothing, then stood and stretched a little.

_Oh, well, I suppose I should go and wake him up… _

But then the quiet moaning rose to a high, piercing scream, and the adrenaline returned to Samina with a vengeance. She was over by the tent before she even realised that she had begun moving, and tore the flap open with one hand, morningstar held ready in the other.

Two yellow, dimly glowing pairs of dwarven eyes blinked confusedly up at her, and in the short moment it took for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the tent, she heard Taskkarr's gruff, drowsy voice:

"What in Vontar's name is happening? What's that smell? Where's my hammer?"

Then she saw him: Judeau was the one who was screaming, his body convulsively arched up and trembling, fists clenched, face contorted in a mask of agony.

Stunned for a moment, she watched as he fell back down against the bedroll again, gasping for air and writhing in pain.

_What the hell is going on? _

She rushed to his side, grabbed him by the arms and began shaking him roughly. "Judeau! Judeau, wake up! Wake up, damnit!"

"Do you smell that?" Taskkarr's deep voice growled in her ear, at the same time as Thirgynn gasped from further back:

"I can sense magic!"

Samina took a quick sniff of the air, and almost gagged on the smell of burning flesh. She turned to the miracle-worker, keeping a hard grip on the writhing man.

"Thirgynn! Is he under a spell?!"

"I'm not sure yet…"

"Well, find out and break it! Now!" She turned back to Judeau and shook him again. "Wake up, Judeau! Can you hear me? Fight it! Wake up!"

He screamed again, and she felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.

_Why won't he wake up? What the HELL is going on? _

Her eyes narrowed in a grimly calculating manner and she released her grip on one of his arms, then slapped him soundly across the face. To her relief, his eyes snapped open and he gasped.

He sat up so suddenly that he almost smacked his forehead into hers, and grabbed her forcefully by the arms in a mirror-movement of how she was holding him.

"Griffith…!" He gasped, his eyes wide and wild as they locked onto Samina's. "…Y-you killed them all…! Demons… blood - everywhere!"

"Judeau!" She met his terrified stare with a serious look, speaking firmly and as calmly as she could. "It's okay – It's me, it's us. You were just having a nightmare. Do you hear me? It was just a nightmare, it's over now."

He seemed to focus on her, and some of the tension drained away from the cramped grip on her arms. He blinked.

"M-Miss… Samina?"

"Yeah," she almost sighed with relief, and smiled. "Yeah, it's just me. It's okay."

But he glanced over her shoulder and all the terror came instantly flooding back. He tried to wrench himself free from her grip, shouting:

"Demons! Behind you!"

She sent a quick look over her own shoulder, not ready to take any chances, and noticed that the dwarves' glowing, yellow night-eyes had been joined by the more greenish glow of Steelwing's. She turned back to Judeau.

"No, no, no, that's just Taskkarr, Thirgynn and Steelwing, there are no demons here – trust me, we would have noticed. It was just a nightmare."

_Was it, though?_ She thought to herself, _the magic Thirgynn sensed… the smell of burning flesh… the way he screamed and writhed… could it really have been just a nightmare?_

The blond man stared at the glowing eyes behind her for a while before relaxing somewhat again. He sank back against the bedroll, breathing heavily.

"Just a nightmare…"

_No, definitely not just a nightmare._ "Yes, just a nightmare. It's okay now."

He looked up at her, his big, brown eyes almost pleading. "Is it…? I-it's over now… right? It was… so real…"

He looked so much like a small boy right then, begging his mother to tell him that there were no monsters under the bed, that she smiled warmly in spite of herself.

_I don't know._ "Yeah, it's over. It's fine."

Judeau's eyes closed and he took a few deep breaths. Behind Samina, Taskkarr huffed:

"Did he call me a demon? Me? Hmpf! I have never heard anything more stupid…"

Suddenly Judeau's hands cramped around her arms again, and his eyes flew open. He sat up, staring down at nothing.

"No," he whispered. "It's not over… Oh, god, no… no…"

"Judeau?"

He pushed her aside and disentangled himself from his blanket.

"…S-'scuse me," he mumbled and unsteadily rose to his feet before pushing his way out past the elf and the dwarves. Worried, Samina followed him.

~

When Judeau got out of the tent, the cold night air hit him like a bucket of cold water after the stuffy warmth inside the tent. He stopped, closed his eyes and just focused on the refreshing sensations that the breeze brought to his still trembling body, trying to force the pictures of the horrible dream out of his head for just a little while.

_…It was so vivid, so real… and my hand…_

The breeze made him delightfully aware of every single bead of sweat and chilled his drenched undershirt against his heated skin. 

_…I was trying to reach them, running over ground covered in faces of the dead… Oh, god, I watched them all die! …_

It made the few loose strands of his hair that weren't plastered against his face and neck gently whisper across his shoulders. He took a deep breath, revelling in the sensation of cool air in his lungs, trying desperately to ignore the turmoil in his heart and stomach.

_…Corkus, Rickert, Pippin, Gatts… I watched them all die, and I couldn't do anything to help them, couldn't do anything to stop it… and demons. Demons tearing, biting, chewing, goring, clawing…_

The grass beneath his feet was cold, soft and felt a little wet. It was wonderfully refreshing against his warm, almost swollen feet.

_…Too weak to do anything… In the end, I couldn't even save her… And Griffith's demonic face, mocking me as he branded her and killed her…_

His palm stung, and he forced his hands into even tighter fists.

_…As he branded me._

He squeezed his eyes shut as the scene played itself out again inside his eyelids. One simple gesture from the dark, demonic Griffith, and the Brand had burned itself out from underneath the skin of his hand. The agony had been unbelievable.

He shivered, and not because of the night breeze. His palm still stung. 

Surely it was just some kind of emotional response to the nightmare, a phantom pain, conjured up by his exhausted and admittedly still befuddled mind.

By the almighty God, he hoped so.

_…It was so real…_

_…And the things… Caska said…_

_No, Judeau! Pull yourself together!_ He opened his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. _Keep it cool, and find out. You have to find out for sure, right now, or you WILL go insane._

With a deep, determined breath, he gathered his courage and purposefully strode up to the fire. An image of Griffith's new, demonic face with a cold, confident smirk rose into his mind, and he heard the all too familiar voice again, repeating the words it had spoken as the brand sizzled through his skin:

_You are mine. Branded as mine. You cannot escape._

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing on calming his racing heartbeats and to stop himself from trembling.

_Keep it cool, Judeau,_ he admonished himself, then raised his hand up to his face and paused for a short moment before he slowly unclenched his fist and let the flickering light from the fire fall onto his palm.

_You cannot escape._

His knees gave out. He vaguely felt them hit the ground.

His head spun. 

He felt as though he was going to be sick.

_You cannot escape._

It shouldn't have been. It couldn't have been… but it was. Somehow, the brand had returned – his nightmare had followed him into the waking world. He began trembling even worse, finding it increasingly harder to breathe.

He stared at the brand on his palm, unable to think a single coherent thought and close to drowning in the flood of memories that came welling up, to mix and blend with images from his suddenly much too real nightmare.

Corkus, his head torn off and his body being devoured by a horde of demons… Rickert, impaled through the abdomen by a demon's sword-like horn… Pippin, avenging his own death with one last, mighty blow to the demon that had become his bane… Gatts, fighting like a wild beast to guard Caska's back until his very last breath – then torn apart by the onslaught of demons… Caska… Caska, standing proud like an avenging angel, her short hair falling like a dark halo around her head… beautiful Caska, at once terrifying and desirable, screaming accusations of cowardice and selfishness at him, blinded by her own tears for Gatts… Caska… beautiful Caska… dead on the ground of faces, naked, humiliated by the one man she would have given everything for, her strong, loyal heart torn from her body and held in the claw-like hand of the new Griffith… her blood pooling out around her, mixing with the blood of all the others…

And Griffith's calm, sensible, confident voice – the voice he had trusted and followed loyally for most of his life – kept echoing through his mind, taunting and pitying him.

_You are mine. Branded as mine. You cannot escape… You all entrusted me with your lives - wouldn't you have died for me? …Don't you want to die by your comrades' sides? …Like she did? …Do you miss her? You will see her soon. You cannot escape this fate._

Then a deep, resounding, well-modulated voice worked its way through the terrified haze in his mind, slowly returning him to reality.

"…Looks like a magic rune! Let me see that." He felt two big, strong hands grasp his own in a surprisingly gentle grip, and found himself looking up into Thirgynn's calm, analytical face. In some way the composed, gentle and… somehow _solid_ presence of the miracle-worker helped Judeau come to his senses.

As much as he presently could, at least.

He rose to his feet, pulling his hand out of Thirgynn's gentle hold.

"Uhn…? Mr Judeau…?" The miracle-worker looked up at him, confused. Judeau shakily ran a hand through his own hair to get it out of his face, and managed to give the dwarf a weak smile.

"I… I'm sorry, Mr Thirgynn. Can you please… look at it a little later? I… I need to… to be alone for a while… I need to sort things out…"

Thirgynn frowned, uncomprehending. "Eh? Come now, Mr Judeau, don't be difficult. Give me your hand, that rune must be examined."

The dwarf reached out to grab Judeau's arm, but the human backed away. He just needed a little time to himself, to come to terms with …everything. To think, to deal... He tried again:

"Please, Mr Thirgynn… not right now. Please. I really must…"

But Thirgynn followed him, his frown deepening from concerned confusion to slight annoyance. He interrupted sternly:

"Give me your hand, manling! That rune just appeared out of nowhere and its qualities must be ascertained - It might be dangerous!"

"Thirgynn!" Samina called from over by the tent, but the miracle-worker took no notice of her. Judeau kept backing away, half expecting to run into a tree at any moment.

"Please… not right now… it's too much… I must have some time to think…"

"Then sit down and think while I'm studying it. Now let me see your hand!"

His desire to be left alone was joined by an increasing feeling of entrapment and, combined with the images from his nightmare and the painful memories they brought up, they overruled everything else in his tired, confused mind – And before he could think about it, he had turned on his heel and was running into the forest, ignoring the calls that rose behind him.

~

"Judeau!" Samina shouted after the running man, "Stop! Wait! You can't just run off! It's dangerous!"

Then she turned around, startled, as a very pale Shammael staggered out from the tent and fell to his knees beside her, clutching his own head tightly and almost shaking.

"It's - It's all my fault, I knew I shouldn't've lied to him, I knew I shouldn't've taken it for granted! …I thought I got it, I really thought I did! …Can you ever forgive me, boy? …It's my fault …that thing, that horrible, horrible thing – it gnaws at me, it makes me sick… I wanted it gone so badly and I really thought I got it… I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I lied… I shouldn't've…"

Samina threw a glance at the retreating scout, then quickly turned back and pointed decisively at the distraught Healer.

"Thirgynn, take care of him and try to get him to make some sense. Taskkarr, Steelwing, stay here and guard the camp – help Thirgynn, I'm going after Judeau."

As she turned to run, she felt a slim, iron hand grab her arm and she paused, looking back at Steelwing. The Crusader was almost scowling at her.

"You shouldn't run off on your own, either."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp and began backing away as she replied, "I can take care of this, I'm the expert on people, here, remember? If I go alone, I can make him agree to return – much faster than it would take to chase him down and drag him back. Now, trust me and stay!" 

Without stopping to see whether she was obeyed or not, she spun on the spot and was off. Behind her, she heard Taskkarr loudly and amusedly declare:

"She gives orders like a dwarf! Hehe, you're staying here, pointy-ears."

Then she focused on the small speck of brightness that was Judeau's white undershirt, as it darted in and out of sight between the trees.

_What is he thinking? Running off in the middle of the night – in the middle of NOWHERE for crying out loud, without weapons, armour – or even boots?_

_No, no, I know; he's very upset, and he's not thinking at all right now… I just wish I knew what the HOPPING HELL is going ON!_

He had quite a bit of a lead on her, and the fact that she was wearing her chainmail underneath her jacket wasn't helping her gain on him. She considered calling out to him, but decided against it – letting him know that he was being followed would most likely be a bad move right now. 

No, her best bet was to try to keep up with him and approach him carefully when he eventually stopped.

She hoped that wouldn't be too long from now.

~

Judeau realised that he was getting very cold, and that he wasn't running through the woods anymore. He stopped, panting, and looked back. He had an overwhelming feeling of being followed, and shook his head roughly to clear it.

_No, Judeau, no… the demons were left behind in the other world, they're not after you here. Try to pull yourself together. Try to focus…_

But that little voice in the back of his mind kept babbling away in cold panic:

_The brand came back! The brand came back, right out of the nightmare! Oh god, it was real, then! It was a VISION and not a dream! Oh god, they're all dead! All dead… and soon the demons will come for me – they could already be here… they're all dead, all but me. __Oh god, oh god…_

He shook his head again, when he suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, thought he saw something move in the moonlight. His head snapped up and he fought down another surge of panic.

He had come out on the other side of the forest without even realising it, and he was standing among what appeared to be the old, withered ruins of an abandoned farming-village. Short, uneven stumps of walls were barely visible, peeking out of the high grass, and in the pale, blue light of the two moons he could vaguely see that the vegetation was shorter in certain rectangular areas where the houses had been standing.

He tried to swallow; his throat was as dry as parchment – partially from the running, partially from fear.

Was it his imagination, or had the air suddenly become much colder? Wasn't his brand stinging worse than just a few minutes ago? His eyes darted across the ruins and the plain beyond. A sense of dread began seeping into his veins, and it was becoming very difficult to fight off the panic.

"Judeau…?"

His heart leapt and skipped several beats as he spun around, facing the one who had called his name. For a brief moment, he was terrified to realise that he didn't have any weapons with him, but then he relaxed again. The one who had spoken was Samina, who was standing at the end of the 'street', bent forward and breathing very heavily. He rubbed his face with both hands in another weak attempt to calm down and sighed shakily.

_Oh, yes… explain this, now. Nice way to keep your cool, Judeau – running off in panic. Good move._

He looked back at her again. She was still doubled over, supporting herself with her hands on her knees and giving him a glare that clearly asked him if she had chased him enough for one night. He tried to give her an apologetic smile.

"Miss Samina, I… I'm sor-AH!" his whole arm twitched as the sting of the brand suddenly doubled in intensity.

**_…flesh…_**

Both humans' heads snapped up, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees more.

**_…warm flesh… warm blood…_**

Judeau turned around again. He felt as though everything was happening in slow motion – the cold, unearthly whisper seemed to freeze not only the air around them, but also the blood in their veins. As he turned away from her, he briefly saw Samina begin to straighten up with a look of fear and surprise on her face.

**_…give it to me, I need it… need it…_**

Behind him, he saw several beings emerge from the tattered ruins of the houses – transparent, vaguely human-shaped entities that glowed a soft, misty blue. One of them rose out of the ground right beneath his feet, and he found himself frozen to the spot. He couldn't even cry out in horror as the ghost pressed its rotten, decayed remains of a face against his and he felt the icily cold touch of its fingers snake around his neck, spreading a deathly chill through his body.

**_…so hungry… so hungry…_**

~

Ghosts! Samina fought desperately against the oppressive, paralysing presence these undead generated, willing herself to move towards Judeau.

One of the ghosts had risen up out of the ground right in front of him, and had grabbed him with a ravenous hunger. She knew what was going to happen next.

"Judeau! Fight it! Break free!" Her legs didn't want to obey her, but she kept them staggering forward until she finally broke through the barrier of the ghosts' paralysing spell and regained full control of her body.

The ghosts around her were moving in, whispering with dark, grave-cold voices.

**_…flesh… I need it… so hungry… warm blood… so very hungry… give it to me…_**

"Back off!" She snarled and swung her morningstar through the nearest of them. It had no effect, but the ghosts halted and pulled back a little, as if confused or uncertain as to what they should do. She glanced over at Judeau.

The ghost that was holding him was beginning lose its shape, tendrils of misty, glowing energy coiling around the both of them, creeping over the man's skin, searching, binding…

"Judeau!" He was standing perfectly still, the only sign of his resistance being his clenched, trembling fists and the tenseness of his muscles. "Keep fighting! Don't let him get you! Throw him out!"

**_…so hungry… warm flesh…_**

"Shut up!" she yelled. "You're dead! Go back and be dead!" Another swing, another brief withdrawal.

"Judeau! You must…" Her voice trailed off. Before her eyes, Judeau's fists gradually relaxed and his body became limp in the ghosts arms. With a sharp, victorious hiss, the creature seeped into him through his nose, mouth, eyes and skin. Samina felt a new kind of numbness fill her.

_He stopped struggling? He GAVE UP?_

The Judeau-creature turned around to face her, its lips twisting in a disturbing grin, pulling back to reveal glistening, white teeth that suddenly seemed much sharper than before. Judeau's brown eyes had widened, so much so that Samina half expected them to fall out of their sockets, and a mad, misty blue light shone in the black depths of the pupils.

_Judeau, how could you?_

The hideously grinning Judeau-creature began moving towards her, staggering, its breath hissing between its teeth. Samina grimly readied herself for battle.

_How could you, Judeau?_

"Hhhhunnngryyy…" The Judeau-creature hissed, and clumsily reached out for her. 

That was when she noticed – its movements were just a little bit too sluggish, its words just a little bit too slurred. She looked up into its mad eyes and saw a small, struggling spark of hope. Deep inside the scout, something was still fighting the possession, still desperately clinging on to life and trying to regain control.

He wasn't gone yet – there was still hope, but without any magic or magical weapons, and with the ghost already inside him, there was only one thing she could do to save his life… and the mere thought of that turned her stomach into a cold knot.

She hesitated long enough for the creature to grab her by the arm and pull her closer, its white teeth glittering in the moonlight as it leaned in towards her face. 

"Hhhhuuunnngrryy…"

_Damn you, Judeau. And damn me. Damn me for doing this again._

She snarled back at it and, with a fierce resolve, jammed the wrist of her free hand into its mouth.

"Go and be dead, glutton!" she hissed, and at the same time as its teeth pierced her skin, she reached down into the deepest, darkest part of her soul and opened the Void. 

In that very instant, the world around and inside her became unhinged. Things that were normally hidden and indiscernible became as clear as day, and details that her sharp eyes easily spotted otherwise turned fuzzy and unclear. She could now see the face of the ghost, superimposed upon Judeau's, and she could feel not only the icy chill its bite spread through her blood, but also the hazy, tingly feeling of its magical tendrils as they sought out her spirit through the blood it drew. It wanted to drain her energies to strengthen its own unholy hold on the living world.

However, the instant its magic came into contact with her soul, it was helpless to resist the pull of the Void – and _she_ began draining _it_.

As the dark, whirling madness that was her Birthright began to devour the magic in the ghost with a ferocious and insatiable hunger, Samina wrestled with its pull as well. It tugged at her consciousness, whispering unspoken promises of relief, of release… release from the pain in her wrist, release from the guilt and the anger and the sadness and the memories… all she would have to do was to surrender… it would be so easy… much too easy.

As the ghost was mercilessly pulled out of Judeau's body, it could not let go of the magic that bound it to the world of the living, the same magic that was rapidly being swallowed by the Void, and Samina's whole body jerked as the agonised spirit passed through her mind. This was the hard part. 

A mad babbling filled her head and flashes of images – old, old, memories, distorted as well as horribly clear – were pounded into her mind's eye.

_…Why why it was such a beautiful day and it was finally over finally over and done and after three years three years of watching my friends die three years in the mud far away from my family I was finally home and it was such a beautiful day and my wife was so happy and little Tialla had grown so much and I didn't even get one day not even one day with them and why why why I had just gotten home and then everything was burning and they were killing everyone and He came into our house and Rohanna Rohanna my beautiful beautiful Rohanna she tried to save the baby and he oh my gods oh my gods so much blood just like then and he slit her throat and little Tialla no no no why gods why why couldn't I move why couldn't I move and He smiled the bastard SMILED and walked over to me and it was such a beautiful day and Rohanna was dead on the floor and the sun was shining and He was smiling smiling smiling and why couldn't I have had just one day just one day why why why I want to live I don't want to die I want to live it's not fair I didn't even get one day and I don't want to die I want to live…_

The poor, tortured spirit disappeared into the void with one last, drawn out, ethereal howl, and Samina and Judeau both collapsed to their knees, breathing heavily and holding on to each other. Samina felt sweat run from her brow and forced herself to unclench her aching jaws. She noticed that Judeau's teeth had let go of her wrist, but couldn't summon the strength to look up at him right now.

Fuelled by the absorption of the poor soul, the Void had grown significantly in strength, and it took all of her willpower and concentration to keep herself from giving in to its pull. With a monumental effort, she reached in and closed the howling hellhole. The world slipped back into place.

"Why…" she whispered hoarsely to the scout, without looking up. "Why did you make me do that? Why did you give up?"

"I'm sorry…" he breathed. "I'm sorry… that I didn't die…"

In one swift moment of red-hot rage, Samina threw herself into Judeau, knocking him to the ground. As the worst surge of anger dissipated, she found herself perched on top of him with one knee on his chest and both hands dangerously close to his throat, and forced them into the ground on either side of his head instead, growling:

"I just saved your godsdamned life, and you say you're sorry that you didn't die? That's the sort of nonsense _bullshit _that I _don't _want to hear! Do you understand me?!"

Tears were glistening on the blond man's face, and he stared unfocused up at the moons as he continued whispering,

"…Caska… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry that I didn't die with you… with the others… I'm sorry, everyone… that I wasn't there… that I left you all to die… Oh, Caska… all I ever wanted… was for you to be happy… forgive me… for being so weak…"

Samina squeezed her eyes shut and sighed deeply.

_Of course he wasn't talking to me… I should know how disoriented people get after being possessed… and he's had a nightmare, probably of a magical nature, on top of that. He was confused and upset from the start. I must calm down, I must keep my temper…_

** _…flesh… flesh…_**

Samina looked up in cold, sudden terror. The rest of the ghosts still hovered in the air around them, pale fingers reaching, rotten faces whispering.

**_…so hungry… so hungry… give me your flesh… your warm blood… so cold… so hungry…_**

_Why aren't they leaving?_ She thought desperately and scrambled to her feet, morningstar held ready. _They should all be gone! They've seen what I can do to them, I know they have – so why aren't they leaving? They should be much too afraid to risk anything on their existence… Weak ghosts like these… Why…? What's going on?_

"Go…" she whispered, trying to gather her wits. "Go… Be gone…"

They made no sign of leaving, but wouldn't advance either. It looked almost like something was pushing or pulling the ghosts towards the two of them, but that they were hesitating, unsure and maybe frightened.

"Go!" She said in a much more steady voice. "Isn't the one thing left in you the urge to live? Go! I can kill you! Kill you for real! Be gone!"

She did feel a little stupid – there had never been any proof that ghosts could hear the living, especially not the ones as weak as these, but she felt she had to do _something_. 

Judeau moaned on the ground behind her, and she turned back to him. 

"Judeau…" she leaned down closer to him, at the same time trying to keep an eye on all the ghosts. They weren't coming closer… yet. "Judeau, can you walk? We have to get out of here and back to the others. Can you walk? Can you hear me?"

"Griffith…" He sobbed. "We trusted you… we trusted you… Why, Griffith? Why?"

_Curses!_ She dipped down and looped his arm around her shoulders, grabbing him firmly around the waist. Gods curse it, but she would _carry_ him if she had to.

"Just try to hold on, okay?"

He mumbled something unintelligible – something about crying a lot – and she took a deep breath and the first, tentative steps towards the wall of ghosts.

"Get out of my way," she muttered, "or you know what happens."

The ghosts didn't move.

**_…hungry… feed my hunger… give me your flesh… so cold, so very, very cold… warm me in your blood…_**

Feeling the adrenaline begin to surge again, she reacted instantly when one of the ghosts suddenly decided to attack – She reached inwards and reopened the Void before the glowing apparition even came within grabbing distance.

The effect was immediate. The ring of ghosts expanded around her to about twice its earlier size, and the anguished whispers rose to wordless wails.

_Good, good,_ Samina thought as sweat began trickling off of her temples again _…because… if I take just one more… just one… then I'll lose it. I'll lose it for sure._ The Void hadn't lost any of its strength in the short time it had been closed, and it was almost too much to resist even now. She gathered her resolve and began moving back towards the camp, the ghosts falling in behind them, still wailing.

In the grip of the Void their rotten faces were disgustingly clear to Samina, and though each face was disturbing in itself, what really frightened her was what she saw on each of them; A mix of unbridled terror and a mad, ravenous hunger – much worse than anything she would have believed such weak ghosts capable of. She could dare a good guess at which one was going to win out in the end.

"Caska…" Judeau mumbled and blearily looked up at her. "…Did I… did I do the wrong thing… when I dragged you away from there? …Was I… just being selfish…? Did you really …rather… want to die with the others?"

"Keep it together, Judeau."

_Keep it together yourself,_ she thought as another drop of sweat trickled down her cheek. _If you lose control now, he'll be dead. And that would be quite counter-productive at this point, don't you think?_

She glanced behind them. The ghosts were closing in on them again, slowly but surely gaining ground and getting bolder and more eager with every inch. Some whispers could be discerned from the ghastly wailing:

**_…flesh… hunger… cold… warm bodies, warm blood…_**

_Oh, hell… Dear Any God That Might Be Listening, please, please, PLEASE let us be close enough to camp._

"Thirgynn!" She yelled, on the top of her lungs. "Steelwing! Taskkarr! Heeelp!"

-*--*-

A cliffhanger? Am I that evil? …Yes. Yes, I suppose I am… now review, or I won't write the next chapter! :D *mouahahahahaaa…*

(…Okay, so I'm kidding, but review anyway so I know just how evil I am… and can be inspired to write faster. *hint hint, nudge nudge* ;) )

_____

RR:

nada: Don't strain your jaw – it's not good for you. And thanks!

Stargazer Nataku: *whew* thank you for your kind words, and do keep reading!

Gorgonzola: I hope you can forgive me for the lack of dwarves… was it a good chapter anyway? :)

Hawk Dreas: *glows* thank you, thank you… ^_^

Rose: Thank you very much, and here you have more Judeau, as per ordered. ;) (Even tough I was a bit evil to him… eh heh…)

And an extra big basket of appreciation goes to Hott… the help when needed!


	10. Words in the Night

Whoooa… Okay, this is the longest chapter _ever_, but I really, _really _didn't want to split it… Sorry I left you all hanging like that for so long, but… yeah.

As we say in Sweden: He who waits for something good can never wait too long. (…But I personally prefer the proverb: Better late than never. ^_^;)

So, yeah. Long chapter, kinda angsty, on with the show.

-*--*-

Chapter ten: Words in the night.

Thirgynn was fuming, in a very dwarven fashion that meant a lot of stomping back and forth, grumbling to yourself and occasionally kicking a harmless rock or pine-cone out of the way.

It was simply outrageous! First, Mr Judeau had refused to let the miracle-worker examine the rune that had inexplicably showed up in his hand, then he had run off all by himself (leaving Thirgynn feeling a little bit guilty, which only furthered the dwarf's anger), and then the Healer had clammed up and refused to explain anything about his strange outburst, as long as Mr Judeau was not present. The elderly human had sat down by a tree, gathered his dogs to him and somehow managed to fall asleep there.

 "What's taking them so long?" Thirgynn growled and kicked another pebble into the forest. 

Taskkarr paused for a moment in strapping the scaly demonhide around his massive chest and shrugged. "He's probably being difficult. Humans get like that when they're upset."

Thirgynn stopped pacing and watched Taskkarr place the metal chestplate on top of the demonhide.

 "Taskkarr, why are you putting your armour on? Are you expecting trouble of some sort?"

The demon hunter sent the other dwarf a withering glare.

 "Always."

Thirgynn bowed apologetically and quietly mused; _well, that would be one thing you have in common with the elf, then…_

The miracle-worker glanced over at the tall Crusader and grinned inwardly. _Not that I would ever point that out, of course…_

As Thirgynn watched, a sudden change came over Steelwing. He had been sitting still before, stoically gazing off into the night, but now the suddenly froze completely – for a few seconds he didn't even breathe. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was on his feet and had slammed the helmet down over his head.

Taskkarr was completely taken by surprise and flew to his feet as well, yelling:

 "What? What? What's wrong? What can you hear?"

 "Samina." Steelwing firmly called back. "She's in trouble."

 "What kind of trouble?!" Taskkarr shouted, but the elf had already mounted his slender steed with one swift jump, and as he turned it around he only had time to yell:

 "She's calling for Thirgynn!" –Before he was off like a silver wind through the trees.

 "Magical trouble, then!" Thirgynn surmised and ran over to the murvelbeasts.

 "Right. Then I'm taking the hammer," Taskkarr growled with an audible grin, before he let out a sharp whistle that called the black-brown beast to his side.

 "Hey, hey! What's going on?" a drowsy, confused Shammael called from over by his tree, but the dwarves had already pulled themselves up onto the backs of their murvels and were racing off in the direction the elf had taken, fists securely tangled in the thick, shaggy fur.

There was no time for saddles, and Thirgynn had to fight very hard to keep nausea down as the grey murvel jumped over fallen trees and big rocks.

They did not have time for being sick, either.

But there would be hell to pay, rest assured, if this turned out to be a false alarm. Thirgynn would personally see to that.

~

Samina tripped. It had seemed like a good idea at first, trying to run from the ghosts while half-carrying the incoherent Judeau. It might have worked, too, if she had only been able to see where she was going properly; in the grip of the Void it was impossible to distinguish those small ditches from the rest of the hazy landscape.

She fought desperately to straighten herself up, but realised that biting the grass was inevitable at this point and tried to twist herself so that Judeau would be spared the worst of the impact. To her surprise, however, she felt his free arm wrap around her stomach and steady her. She looked up into his face, but saw that though he was steadier now, he was still not clear of his confusion.

 "Keep struggling…" he mumbled as their eyes met, "until the very, very end…"

He didn't seem like he was aware of what he was saying – or whom he was saying it to, but she gazed back and whispered quietly:

 "That's the spirit."

She glanced over his shoulder. They had managed to put some distance between themselves and the ghosts, but the hungry apparitions were closing in quickly now, apparently – and impossibly – having gotten over their fear of the Void.

Samina reviewed their chances. They couldn't keep running blindly like this, another scare like this one and she might lose control out of sheer surprise. She felt another drop of sweat roll down between her eyes and tried to shake it away. Her morningstar was useless against the ghosts, and so were her sword and her armour. Judeau would have been useless too, even if he hadn't been unarmed and confused. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. The closer the ghosts came, the stronger the pull of the Void got as it fed off of their paralysing spell.

…The Void…

_It all boils down to that, doesn't it? _she thought bitterly. _No, It's too risky. It's a last resort._

 "Move!" She forcefully pulled Judeau along with her and kept walking as fast as she dared. "Thirgynn!! Steelwing!!" _Damn it all, where are they?_

She glanced behind them again, and realised with a terrible, icy chill that they weren't moving fast enough. The ghosts were gathering speed and closing in on them.

_I don't want to!_ She felt tears begin to burn behind her eyelids. Whether of exhaustion, anger or fear, she couldn't tell. But it didn't really matter. _Oh gods, I don't want to!_

 "Judeau! Can you stand on your own?"

 "M… my legs work…" He shook his head violently and stared at her with half-seeing eyes. "Y-yes… I can."

She unhooked his arm from around her neck and gave him a hard shove in the back. "Then go!" 

_I don't want to do this!_ The tears spilled over, burning like liquid fire as they trailed down her cheeks and blended with the sweat on her face, but her voice did not betray her. "Go! Get as far away from me as you can!"

He almost fell to the ground when she pushed him, but managed to right himself and turned back towards her, looking even more confused.

 "Wh… what…?"

 "Run! RUN! Save yourself!" Through the tears – Damnit! She was crying like a helpless little girl, and she just couldn't stop! – She could see him take a few, staggering steps backwards, but then he stopped and shook his head again, bringing a hand up to his forehead with a low groan.

 "No… save you…"

 "Don't worry about me! I'll be fine, GO!" And in the far back of her mind, in a small, distant centre of calm, a tiny little voice acidly added: _That depends on your definition of 'fine', of course…_

She saw him hesitantly turn around and begin to stagger away, and she turned back to face the oncoming, spectrally glowing wave of ghosts. She saw their focus change and they seemed to suddenly forget all about her – they were reaching beyond her, towards Judeau.

_Go figure…_ the calm little voice whispered, _it's got to have something to do with that rune._

Samina clenched her fists and placed herself in the ghosts' path. The Void was straining at the bit within her, still growing stronger – perhaps aided by her own turbulent emotions. She set her jaw and dug her feet into the ground. The second one of those spectres touched her, it would be pulled in, and the Void… the Void would… _I don't want to do this! _…She would fight the hellhole with every fibre of her being._ It won't be enough… and Judeau won't get far enough…_ A few more tears spilled down her cheeks, but she kept her eyes open. Maybe it was hopeless, but a last, desperate chance was still better than no chance at all. 

The ghosts closed the last bit of distance between them.

And then two things happened in quick succession. The first one was that the glow of the ghosts was suddenly blocked from her vision by the silhouette of a man on horseback, wielding what appeared to be a sword that was shining with a pure, white light. To Samina's hazy eyes he appeared to have taken shape out of the shadows of the night, with all the stars of heaven forming his blade. But she barely had time to be surprised at the horseman's appearance before the second thing happened; She felt Judeau's arms wrap around her as the blond scout threw himself in front of her – to protect her.

In that moment of complete confusion, she heard him whisper – so quietly that she really shouldn't have been able to pick it out:

 "You have to survive… because I love you."

And then the horseman swung his blade down. It passed through a glowing ghost and the apparition shattered in a brilliant flash, which lit up the face of the horseman. Samina distantly wondered since when angels had glowing green eyes and faces of shining steel – but then she remembered; the visor of Steelwing's helmet had been crafted in an image of his own face… It was him.

They were saved.

That thought echoed through her mind, but she couldn't remember what it was supposed to mean… And Judeau had said… and he was protecting her… and Steelwing kept shattering ghosts left and right… saved… Judeau…

A deep bellow cut through her confusion, and then the night exploded into light. She ducked instinctively and pulled Judeau down along with her, turning to face the direction the bellow had come from.

Mounted on the snarling murvelbeast, hands held out, fingers spread and with thin bolts of crackling, twisting lightning arching out from each fingertip, Thirgynn had never been a more welcome sight. Samina didn't have to look back to know that wherever one of those whipping ribbons of lightning connected with a ghost, the spectre's magical bonds to the physical world would be smashed by the power of Thirgynn's spell.

And finally, Samina fully realised that they were saved. Sagging with relief she reached in, strained her mind to the limits of its strength and closed the Void – and the exhaustion that she had been ignoring while in its grip came crashing into her, along with the pain in her wrist… and everywhere else. Every muscle in her body ached and tingled as she once again had to acknowledge their existence and need for rest. The collected weight of all the weariness and pain brought her to her hands and knees, and she began to tremble – but it was glorious. The pain meant that she was alive, that she was safe and that she was back to herself.

She heard Taskkarr bellow again, and this time she heard what he was shouting:

 "Save some for me! Save some for me!"

She might have smiled if she hadn't been so incredibly tired.

An uncertain hand landed gently on her back, and she heard Judeau's confused voice in her ear:

 "Ca… Caska?"

She looked up into his gentle and confused brown eyes, and felt an inexplicable sting of bitterness.

_He wasn't talking to me. Of course he wasn't, why would he? …Stupid, stupid girl._

 "No," she breathed hoarsely, glaring up at him, "Samina. My name is Samina."

He blinked at her, squinted and shook his head roughly.

 "Sa… Samina… what… what happened?"

She felt that she was too angry at him right now – for too many reasons – to speak anything but her mind, so she decided to just concentrate on breathing for a while.

~

While they were riding back to the camp, Judeau felt his head become more and more clear. He now knew that he hadn't been back at the massacre of the Band of the Hawk, and could remember everything that had happened between then and tonight pretty clearly.

What had happened after his body had been filled by a deathly cold, and his head by a mad, babbling voice, however, was a completely different story.

His impressions from that point were hopelessly jumbled. He had had a strong feeling of hanging from Caska's shoulder again, her arm around his waist and pain racking his body with every step, but he knew that it couldn't have been so.

He was reasonably sure that they had been followed by something horrible, but – when he thought back – it hadn't 'felt' like demons…

He did know that the brand in his palm had hurt the whole time, though. That had been the only constant impression, and probably one of the main reasons why he had so vividly thought himself back at the massacre.

He looked down at his hand and frowned at the brand. It had stopped hurting now, but how had it gotten back there in the first place?

Samina stirred behind him, and he somehow got the impression that she was putting an effort into avoiding direct contact with him. She had been reluctant enough to get up on the horse –no, horsekin– behind him, but Steelwing had insisted rather sternly, and she _had_ looked just about ready to drop dead out of exhaustion. Was she angry with him for some reason?

…That's right, it had been her, hadn't it? She had been the one supporting him, dragging him along, not Caska…

He rubbed his face again. It was all so confused.

 "All right," the deep, melodious voice of Thirgynn interrupted the silence all around, "Nobody's asking, so I'll just have to say it anyway: I know what that rune is, now."

Judeau turned to the bald dwarf so quickly that he almost lost his balance, and for a brief moment he felt Samina's hand against his side – but she quickly snatched it away again.

 "Wha- you do?"

The miracle-worker nodded. "I do. It is a beacon spell, a powerful and specialised one, too. I saw it when I was preparing my own spell."

Taskkarr glanced over at the other dwarf. "Beacon spell?"

 "Yup. It attracts the undead, and lures them into a frenzy of hunger… and by the feel of it while it was activated like that, I am reasonably sure that it also applies to demons."

Taskkarr's non-existent eyebrows rose heavenwards. "Oh, really…?"

Judeau stared at the brand again, horrified.

 "My god… _that's_ what it does?"

 "I believe so, yes," Thirgynn answered in the tone of a scholar who'd encountered something he didn't understand, but was determined to learn about, "But I would require to study it further before I know for sure."

Some parts of Judeau's brain apparently decided to shut down. This had gone beyond what he was prepared to deal with for one night, and he felt his head being filled by a new kind of numbness. The confusion cleared, simply because he stopped acknowledging it, and his mind began to work with a strange, crude effectiveness.

_Okay,_ it said, _so the brand will attract undead and demons – no, might attract undead and demons… so what? You could try to cut your hand off, but that would most likely not work and then you'd be a branded cripple instead._

_Which would be worse, of course._

_So, you can't do anything about it, right? Then you must find a way to live with it._

_Unless, of course, it comes and goes… in which case you'll get off easier, and won't have to worry about it from time to time._

_So, step one: Find out more about it. Thirgynn will probably be only too eager to help you with that…_

Judeau remained deeply immersed in this nice, calm thoughtfulness until they arrived at the camp, where Samina immediately slid down off the elfhorse and turned to Taskkarr, while pointedly ignoring Tail and Muzzle's tail-wagging greetings.

 "I need to borrow your bottle, Taskkarr."

Carefully dismounting the unsaddled horsekin, Judeau glanced over at her. There had been an unmistakable tenseness in her voice – she _was_ angry. He tried to remember what he might have done, but it was like trying to catch a small soap in a big bathtub.

 "My bottle?" Taskkarr landed heavily on the ground and gave Samina a surprised look.

 "Yes," the scar-faced woman clipped, "Your bottle. Can I please have it?"

Taskkarr frowned and walked over to his pack, where he took out a small, metal bottle that he handed to Samina with one raised eyebrow.

 "If… you need a drink, I wouldn't recommend…" He began, but Samina took the bottle from him with a brief, strained smile.

 "It's not for drinking."

Without explaining further, she pulled the cork out of the bottle, rolled up her sleeve, and poured the clear liquid over her wrist, hissing in pain when it mixed with the red blood that had trickled down over her hand from the deep bite-mark she was dousing. Judeau watched the pink droplets fall from her knuckles and sparkle in the light of the fire – And realisation hit him, along with a fuzzy memory of a great hunger… and a terrible pull…

 "I did that… didn't I? I… bit you…"

Without turning around, but with a voice several degrees colder, Samina responded:

 "Yes. Yes, you did."

He swallowed and tried not to look at any of the others. "I'm very sorry… I wasn't being myself."

 "I know." She turned around, and her eyes bore into him like burning needles. He took an involuntary step backwards, but she walked straight up to him and waved her bloodied finger at his face.

 "Why, Judeau? Why? First you run off like some damn fool so I have to chase you, then you get yourself possessed by a simple ghost! Why? Why did you give up? Can you explain that to me? He was nothing, hardly even a spirit anymore! You could easily have resisted, but you. Gave. Up. Why? You have no idea of what I had to risk to save your sorry ass – and _then_ you whine about being sorry for not being dead! I'm-"

 "Samina!"

Everybody's heads turned to Steelwing. The tall Crusader's voice had been unexpectedly strong, loud and commanding – and so was his presence as he locked a stern gaze on the scar-faced woman and continued to speak in a calmer, more reasonable tone:

 "We have all had a rough night, Mr Judeau maybe the worst of us all, and none of us need an argument at this point. You are exhausted, Samina. Take care of your wound and go to sleep, and you can argue all you like in the morning."

For a moment, their gazes locked in silent combat, but then Samina's back straightened and she gave the elf a curt nod.

 "You're right. Sorry."

Without a second glance at Judeau, the bounty hunter walked over to her pack and began scrounging through it.

The scout turned to Steelwing to express his gratitude for the interruption, but the elf had already turned away and walked over to the fire, where he proceeded to clean his weapons. With a tired shrug, Judeau turned to Thirgynn.

 "Will you help me find out more about this brand?" He held out his hand and the miracle-worker's face lit up.

 "Certainly! Where do you want me to start?"

But then a brown, rough hand closed around Judeau's wrist and the scout looked up into Shammael's blue-grey eyes. The look they held was very confusing; he looked like he was concerned, disgusted and deeply ashamed at the same time. His raspy old voice was uncertain and unusually quiet as he looked away from Judeau's eyes and mumbled:

 "Shouldn't you deal with that tomorrow? It's been a long enough night for you as it is… You should get some rest…"

Judeau placed his free hand over Shammael's and actually managed a genuine smile at the old man.

 "Thank you for your concern, Shammael, but… if this thing is as dangerous as I'm afraid it is, then there are some things I want to know before I do anything else… besides, I don't think I'll be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, anyway." Shammael reluctantly let go of his wrist, and Judeau turned back to Thirgynn. "First of all, I want to know why it was gone for so long. I got this mark… right before the demons attacked."

 "Really?" The miracle-worker frowned deeply. "I can't explain that right off… I'd have to perform-"

 "It was me."

The scout and both dwarves looked up at the Healer in surprise. He was very pale and didn't seem to be able to lift his eyes from the ground, but his voice was very even as he spoke:

 "It was the first thing I noticed… There was a feeling about you, something that made my skin crawl, made me feel nauseous… but I healed you anyway, because I am a Healer. I can't not help someone in need… and that's when I noticed… that _thing!_" He spat out the last word as if the mere notion of it had burned his tongue and left a sour taste in his mouth.

 "It's connected to you, to your very soul, and as I was healing you, I got a taste of the… _creature_… that placed it on you. It was so frightening… so powerful… _unholy_… and I understood that that mark was dangerous. So very, very dangerous – And its mere presence made me sick to my stomach – like it's doing now… so I… I tried everything. I used up my entire stock of Dusklily, I mixed potions and salves out of every godsdamned magic-dampening plant and herb I had… and nothing helped. So I took the last of the most potent salve, pulverised my only piece of Silver Birch into it – enough to boost my power _fivefold _– and I prayed. I prayed for a whole night… and by morning, that horrible thing was gone."

Here Thirgynn interrupted, apparently intrigued, "You had Silver Birch? Where did you get that? And why did praying help, when magic and herbs did not?"

Shammael hesitated, but then gingerly reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. As he pulled the cloth aside, an old burn mark stood out between the grey hairs on his chest, right over the heart. It had the shape of a wolf's pawprint – Judeau had seen such enough times to recognise them on a glance.

Thirgynn tilted his head to the side, still looking intrigued.

 "Huh. The Mark of the Beast. You are a devout follower of the God of the Hunt, the Lord of Beasts, then?"

 "Not just a follower," Shammael mumbled as he buttoned the shirt up again. "A priest, like any Healer who accepts the Mark… and I figured that since the mark was unholy, holy power would help. Uh, and the Silver Birch was given to me by my old master when he died." He turned back to Judeau with a remorseful look and shoulders hunched, like a dog expecting to be kicked. "I-I am so very, very sorry that I lied to you, boy. So sorry. I know I shouldn't have, but I… I thought I'd got it. I just wanted it to be gone so badly… Can you ever forgive this foolish old man?"

Judeau met Shammael's gaze, for a while unable to say anything. In the background, he heard Thirgynn mumble to himself:

 "Holy power, channelled through Silver Birch by a real priest… in a ritual setting… and the rune still came back? It must have been placed by… a god… or something with equal power!"

An image of a horrible face with its eyes stitched shut, its skin peeled back from its face and a brain too big to fit inside its skull tried to force itself out through the protective haze of Judeau's mind, and he suppressed a shudder.

He placed one hand on the old man's shoulder and tried to smile. "I forgive you, Shammael. You did what you thought was right… and nobody's perfect."

Shammael's face brightened and his posture changed. It was as though a weight that Judeau had never noticed before had been lifted from his shoulders. Then Thirgynn interrupted, pointing a stern finger at the scout:

 "And you haven't told us the whole story behind this rune! Who placed it there? Why? When?"

 "I-I…" his head began to buzz. For some reason, he couldn't shape the words; his tongue wouldn't obey him. It was as though a seething ocean of terrible memories waited just beyond his grasp, ready to burst forth as soon as he began speaking… _Come on, Judeau. They're only words. Words can't hurt you._ "It… I was…" His throat tightened and the buzzing in his head was beginning to make him dizzy. _Why can't I… Come on, tell him what he needs to know, so he can tell me what I need to know!_ "…Uck…"

 "Enough." Once again, Steelwing's calm voice interrupted the moment, and the Crusader got up from his place by the fire, calmly walked up to them and turned to Thirgynn. "It has been a long night, but it will only get shorter from here, miracle-worker Thirgynn. You and Mr Taskkarr will need your sleep if we are to continue our journey tomorrow – and you do want to be on your way, don't you?"

 "Well… um…" Steelwing didn't let the dwarf finish the sentence, as if he knew very well what the answer would be. The elf turned his unemotional raptor gaze on Judeau.

 "Mr Judeau, I realise that you would want to understand more about this curse – or whatever it is – but some things are better discussed in the light of day."

Judeau couldn't tear his eyes away from the Crusader's compelling, steel-grey ones. Slowly, the buzzing in his head ceased and the scout let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, as he finally managed to look away.

 "I… I think you're right. I guess I need some time, after all."

The Crusader gave him a curt nod and walked back to the fire. The two dwarves looked from the elf to Judeau to each other and then huddled into a hushed discussion in dwarfish.

Shammael gave Judeau a friendly grin, gripped him around the arm and pulled him over to the fire.

 "Let me fix you up a potion to help you sleep, boy. Without any nasty dreams."

Judeau found himself pressed down into a sitting position on the ground next to Steelwing, and while Shammael busied himself with fetching the herbs and whatnots he would need for the potion, the blond man glanced over at the elf.

 "Steelwing…"

The Crusader did not look up from his close scrutiny of the grey blade. "Hm?"

 "…Thanks… again."

Steelwing gave a small, indifferent shrug and sheathed his blade – only to pick up his helmet and begin a careful polishing of the exquisitely crafted steel.

Then the dwarves came trudging up to the campfire and announced that they were going back to sleep.

 "We'll talk more tomorrow. Then I will have time to try to perform a ritual of divination, among other things," Thirgynn stated. "I'll need your co-operation, so I hope you will be feeling better by then…?"

Judeau smiled a little uncertainly at the miracle-worker. "I… can't say right now. We'll see how it is tomorrow, okay?"

Thirgynn nodded, but before the miracle-worker could speak, Taskkarr slapped his meaty hand down on Judeau's shoulder and rumbled with a grin:

 "Sleep well, manling. We can't have you falling out of the saddle all day tomorrow… And don't worry about your curse – there are ways to take care of such things." The burly dwarf tapped his own smooth chin and winked.

 "We don't know if it's a curse, yet…" Thirgynn admonished, but Taskkarr turned to the other dwarf and huffed:

 "It's a magical… thing, that's really hard to remove and affects the bearer in a way that is unwanted and dangerous. I'd say it's a bloody curse."

 "It's not that simple…"

The two dwarves walked back to the tent, quietly arguing all the way. An almost wordless growl from Samina put an end to their bickering, however, and soon the only sounds in the night were those of the wind and the crackling of the fire. 

Judeau closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on his own body for a while, seeking out every tense muscle and slowly, consciously relaxing those that weren't absolutely necessary to keep him upright. He felt his breathing and heartbeats slow down, and the mist in his head cleared. So far, so good.

He carefully allowed the first memory images to come, forcing himself to recognise the images from his dream and separate them from his actual memories. 

Corkus' death – dream. He'd lost track of the grumpy old bandit in the chaos of the slaughter, but he'd last seen him with a sword in his hand and standing back to back with a bunch of his own people. If they'd managed to keep themselves together, who knew? They might have survived.

Rickert's death – dream. The boy hadn't even been there when the demons attacked. At least _he_ was still alive, somewhere, with the rest of the wounded Hawks who'd stayed behind.

Pippin's death – memory. Though he hadn't seen it, he knew that it had happened. The gruesome details were dream images, though.

Gatts' death – dream. If anyone could have survived the massacre, it was that man. Of course, he hadn't had his big sword with him, but surely that wouldn't hold the Hundred-Man-Slayer back? He probably strangled all the demons by hand.

Caska's death… Judeau swallowed against the lump that threatened to rise in his throat and disturb his meditative calm. Caska's death had been a dream. She was a strong woman, the strongest he'd ever seen, and second only to Gatts and Griffith in sword skills. She might have – no, _would _have kept fighting and running, would have kept defending herself. She had been unharmed when he fell, he'd seen to that. And Gatts would have found her. Judeau knew the huge man loved Caska enough to go through hell and high water to save her – he wouldn't have left her behind.

 "Here, boy. Drink it all up." Judeau was brought back to the present by the Healer's raspy old voice and looked up at the man. Shammael was holding a steaming cup out to him from across the fire with an almost nervous smile.

 "Thank you." Judeau took the offered brew and thoughtfully looked down into it, swirling it around a little but not yet drinking. He felt a strange aversion to the brew, and it was not just because of the anticipated taste. These last weeks he had been so sure that the bad memories were gone and that he wouldn't suffer from them anymore, that he had dealt with it… but apparently he wasn't over the loss and the betrayal yet. The dream had brought it all back and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow worse this time… Like the pain was deeper…

 "If- if you want," the Healer nervously stuttered, "I- I can… mix a little something in your food… It's called 'Heart's Rest'… It'll take the memories out of your heart for a while, give you time to deal with them in your head…"

A coin unexpectedly dropped inside Judeau's brain, and he looked up at the old man with surprise and disbelief.

 "You did that before. While I was recuperating from my wounds… You drugged me the whole time I was with you… didn't you?"

The Healer paled and shrunk back. His eyes grew large as he stared right into Judeau's face. The scout didn't have to hear the reply to know the answer.

 "I-I… I… Don't be mad… I… Your fever-dreams… the things you said… the words you screamed… the tears… the cries… the pain… I can't deal with such pain, it's my nature – I'm a Healer, I have to try to stop pain… all pain. I made your pain go away, boy. It was the only thing I could have done."

 "That's why you've been so keen on giving me stuff," Judeau mumbled, half to himself, "You've been feeling guilty for drugging me, and afraid of how I would react if I found out…"

 "Don't be mad, boy…" Shammael pleaded, almost whimpering like a wounded dog. "I did it because I had to… I had no choice… I'm so ashamed for having lied to you and deceived you for so long. Please… Judeau, please…"

Still feeling pleasantly numb, Judeau tilted his head to the side and frowned slightly. "Shammael, why are you so afraid? What do you think I'll do to you?"

The Healer rubbed his hands and looked away, whining softly. "I don't know. I don't know people, how they'll react or what they'll do. I don't understand people. I am one, but I don't understand them. Animals are so much simpler, they'll never be angry at you for drugging them, as long as your hands are calm and your voice is soft. If you give 'em a treat, they'll love you, no matter what you've done. People are weird – the kindest and nicest of them all can suddenly bite your head off and hate you forever if you just say the wrong thing. I try not to get involved… but I am. I care about what you'll think of me… cause I wasn't lying when I said you were one of the few, few people that this bitter old man have ever actually liked."

Judeau looked down into his mug. The brew in it was brownish, with a few green specks of chopped-up leaves of some kind floating around in it. Its smell was strong, and an interesting mix of mint and bitterness. For some reason that he didn't at first understand, a bubbling sensation was working its way up through his throat, and it spilled over his lips as a chuckle that grew into a tired laugh. Shaking his head, Judeau looked up at the Healer again. The old man was watching him with the look of a man who's standing next to a barrel full of gunpowder that may or may not have a burning fuse attached to it.

 "It's not easy being a Healer, is it?" Judeau asked, still smiling and slowly shaking his head. "Only wanting to help, but never knowing when or how it might backfire on you…" He chuckled again and wearily rubbed his own brow.

Then he sighed and looked down into the brew again. "To be honest, Shammael, I don't know whether to be angry with you or not. You did what you thought was the best thing to do… and it probably was. But…" He held out the brew for the Healer to take it back. "I want to face this now. Otherwise I'll just keep postponing the inevitable."

Shammael made an uncertain gesture and shook his head. "Are you sure about that, boy?"

Judeau hesitated for a moment. It was very tempting, to accept the drugs and make the sharp edge of the horrible memories go away. To dull the pain and go on as he had up until tonight.

But if he did… would his fear of the memories only grow until it paralysed him, and he couldn't be without the drugs for one day of his life? He'd seen it happen, with mercenaries who'd grown tired of all the killing, and people who had lost everything to the war. They had begun 'drinking to forget'… though they'd never really forget – they'd just keep drinking more and more to keep themselves in a state of such drunkenness that they simply didn't care anymore.

And then they'd start selling what little they had left to pay for the alcohol, because the drinking would make them stop caring about themselves as well, so they wouldn't even try to find a job – not that anyone would want to hire someone who was constantly drunk. And when they didn't have anything more to sell, they'd turn to begging and sleeping in the gutter, and one day they'd catch some horrible disease or freeze to death in a dirty back alley somewhere…

…No, hiding from the pain was not the answer. Besides… He _should_ live with this pain. Somehow, anything less would be a betrayal to those who had died. To the memory of all those he had lost.

Judeau decisively handed the brew over to Shammael.

 "It's my pain. I'll learn to live with it." He smiled, feeling oddly light-hearted for the first time tonight, and shrugged. "Somehow."

The Healer took the cup from him and nodded slowly. "As long as you're sure..."

 "I'm not sure about anything right now," Judeau laughed, though the truth of those words stung in his belly. Shammael gave him a look that clearly conveyed his dislike of the scout's choice, but took his things and packed them up, conscientiously emptying the cup under a small bush.

While the Healer was occupied, Steelwing suddenly got up and walked over to his own bedroll. He returned with an unused blanket that he held out to Judeau, and the scout gave him a perplexed look.

 "Take it, Mr Judeau, your lips are turning purple."

He didn't feel cold, but he accepted the blanket anyway with a grateful nod, and swept it about his shoulders. It was indeed a lot warmer than the chilly night air, and Judeau realised that he was still wearing only his pants and his sleeveless undershirt. He pulled the cloth tighter around his body and shivered as warmth began seeping back into him – Apparently, he had been a lot colder than he had thought.

 "Th-thank you, Mr Steelwing."

The elf picked up his helmet again, and went back to cleaning it. "You are welcome."

Over by the packs, Shammael yawned mightily and rubbed his eyes. "I'm an old, old man," he grumbled, almost too quietly for Judeau to hear it, "I don't need nights like this, I need my sleep." Then he raised his voice and turned back to the two men by the fire, adding with finality: "I'm going back to bed. Good night."

 "G'night, Shammael," Judeau mumbled from the warm embrace of the blanket, beginning to feel a little drowsy, himself. Not enough to actually go to sleep, but comfortably exhausted in more than one way.

He sat in silence beside the Crusader for a while, considered going back to sort through his memories again, but decided against it. There would be time enough for that later. 

He leaned his chin against his knee and allowed the dancing flames of the campfire to hypnotise him.

After an uncertain period of time, Steelwing suddenly spoke up.

 "Was it true, what Samina said earlier?"

Judeau found himself startled out of a waking dream. He couldn't remember what it had been about, only that it had felt disturbing. "Huh?"

Steelwing wasn't looking at him; he was gazing down at the helmet, as if expecting the empty face-slot to answer him. "I asked-" He reached behind the helmet and there was a metallic 'click' as a visor snapped into place. "-If what Samina said earlier was true." Judeau's eyes bulged; the visor was such a perfect replica of Steelwing's frowning face that it was chilling. _My god, who crafted that thing?_

 "Eh… huh? What? When?"

Another metallic 'click' and the visor disappeared back into the helmet again. "When she accused you of giving in to possession by one of the ghosts. Was it true?"

Judeau studied the elf's impassive features. The way he put the question was as though he was just making an attempt at casual conversation. The scout frowned warily.

 "You're asking me… if I did give in to the ghost?"

Steelwing carefully put the helmet down next to the rest of his equipment.

 "Yes. Did you give in, or were you overcome?" He threw a quick glance over at Judeau. "Samina's eyes are sharp, but even she may misjudge a person's strength sometimes."

Judeau thought back. There had been that chilling, paralysing feeling in the air, and he had been unable to move – not even to back away from the ghost that had grabbed him and pressed its face against his. He had tried, though. Struggled helplessly to make his numb limbs respond and throw the horrifying, glowing, rotted apparition off of him, but then… then he had had to fight in a completely different way, as the spectre had tried to push itself _into_ him.

He had felt it, the icy cold of death, as it had wandered across his skin, seeking entrance, and his face had been so cold that he had feared it would shatter and fall away. He had felt the spidery touch against his mind – his spirit – as the ghost sought it out, and then the terrible pressure that had been like nothing else he'd ever encountered. It had pressed against his _mind_, tried to force it out of his body, into oblivion… but he had resisted, hadn't he?

He had held on to himself and kept the tortured spirit at bay. It hadn't been very hard… So what had happened? He sought deeper into the jumbled memories. There had been… a flash of memory… from the nightmare… and it had been followed by more and more painful images and memories. The thought struck him now that it might have been some kind of trick by the ghost, but right then his mind had been filled with pain and sadness and grief as image after image had reminded him of all that he had lost – all that had been taken from him.

And he had given in. 

He had yielded, angry at the fate that he had had to suffer, grieving the friends he had lost – and part of him pathetically grateful to be relieved of it all. 

In that moment, he had lost the will to go on living. He felt ashamed at how easily he had given up the fight and just surrendered. What Griffith's betrayal hadn't been able to take from him, he had nearly given away to a weak, unsettled spirit.

Judeau glanced up at the elf, who was watching him with that unnerving, expressionless gaze of his. Who knew what was going on behind those cold, hard orbs? No, the Crusader didn't need to hear how weak he had been, it was humiliating enough as it was.

 "I… can't remember properly… a lot of tonight is just a haze to me." Judeau paused for a moment and tried to sound as casual as possible when he added: "Why do you ask?"

The elf looked away with a thoughtful frown and carefully wet his lips before answering, speaking even more slowly and deliberately than usual:

 "Well, if you did give in, then there is something I would like to… ask of you."

Judeau frowned, still on his guard. "Uh huh? And what's that?"

Steelwing steepled his fingers and studied them for a moment, as if thinking very seriously about how to phrase what he wanted to say.

 "I would like to ask that, if you should ever lose the will to fight again and feel that you want to surrender… or die… kindly think about whom else you might pull down along with you."

Judeau stared at Steelwing, unsure if he had understood what the tall elf had just said, and Steelwing turned to face him, locking his stare with that hypnotic gaze, and speaking seriously:

 "I understand if you gave in tonight, since you did not seem to be fully yourself, and maybe the ghost managed to wear you down – after all, you are only human… But I hope I am right in my assumption that it was a one-time occurrence – if you actually did give in, that is – because that woman gets herself into enough trouble on her own; she does not need your help in that matter." The gaze hardened and a silken edge of menace glinted through in the Crusader's voice, "In other words: Should you, through any kind of weakness, get Samina killed… I will kill you."

Many feelings battled for supremacy inside Judeau's head; anger at the threat and the accusation of weakness, fear at the unmistakable promise in the Crusader's eyes – but most of all surprise. His voice was remarkably calm as he replied:

 "So you do care about her, then."

Again, the elf looked away, and all traces of the threat vanished as subtly as they had come. His eyes narrowed and he frowned slightly in newfound thoughtfulness. When he spoke, it was slowly, but without the careful deliberation of earlier.

 "I… do not _care_… per se. I _owe_ her. I owe her everything."

Judeau blinked. "What?"

The elf regarded him calmly, calculatingly for a moment, and then nodded almost imperceptibly.

 "To sate your human curiosity, I will tell you the story. It will help you understand the seriousness of the situation." He shrugged. "…And there is nothing in it that could be used against me, anyway."

He paused again and steepled his fingers once more, tapping them against his thin lips.

 "I used to belong to a group of elven Crusaders," he begun. "There was Icefang, Silverwolf, Moonclaw, Nightviper and I. We worked well as a team, and if we were separated, we worked well on our own – as is the way it should be with Crusaders… Ah, but I think I am letting myself get carried away. Elven storytelling is much more patient than that of humans… Right, to the point, then: One day Icefang, who was the oldest, most experienced of us, and therefore the closest thing we had to a leader, decided to attempt to clear out the ruined city of Altara, so we followed him.

Altara was once a city as great as the Great City of Ducarron, as filled with knowledge as Bataki Skiel, the library-city, and as saturated with power as the Academy, the ancient city of the mages. Nobody really knows what happened there, but legends say that someone learned too much and tried to challenge the gods – and the gods destroyed the city and placed an eternal curse on the site… Some scholars who have studied the place – from a safe distance – claim that magical resonance as if from a multitude of high-level spells still lingers there…

…Well, whatever the cause, Altara was destroyed in one single night, about two thousand years ago, and it is still forbidden ground. Very few have returned from its ruined buildings and fabled catacombs with their lives, and even fewer with their sanity. It is a place to which dark powers are drawn – undead stalk the ancient streets, demons hunt in the deep mazes, and the restless spirits of those who came to seek the lost treasures of Altara howl in the darkness."

Judeau listened, enchanted by Steelwing's calm, confident voice. It had taken on an unusual resonance, almost as if the elf was about to begin singing, and it didn't matter at all that he had gotten side-tracked in his story again – the description of Altara had filled the scout with a feeling he hadn't known for many years. Judeau pulled the blanket closer around himself as the night suddenly felt colder, darker and more alive. This was just like the way he had felt when he was still a small boy who had stayed up longer than he should, listening to campfire tales of ghosts, trolls and dark magic. His eyes remained fixed on Steelwing's impassive face as the elf continued his story.

 "We fought many battles together, working our way deeper and deeper into the dark catacombs, until we reached a junction. It was decided that I should scout ahead in one path, and Nightviper in the other." Steelwing fell silent again and gazed into the flames, but it was obvious that his mind was far, far away. When he continued, the singsong resonance in his voice was gone.

 "I found a room, lit by a light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. In its midst was an altar of some kind, and on the altar lay-" With a soft, metallic hiss, Steelwing drew both his blades and crossed them in front of him. "-These." Steelwing regarded the blades for a moment, before indicating the one on the left. "This is Karion, who thirsts for the blood of demons, and this-" he indicated the other. "-is Helios, who hungers for the unholy energies of the undead. They are holy weapons." After a moment of studying the swords, Steelwing sheathed them again and turned back to face Judeau.

 "I did not take them at once, mind you. I looked around the room and took a few steps forward to investigate them further… when the Entity attacked me. I don't know what it was, and I suspect I never will. I have never seen its like. Its surprise attack broke my sword as I tried to deflect it, and in desperation, I drew these blades. That seemed to frighten the Entity and it unleashed a blast of magical energy at me… and then, suddenly, it was gone, and the room was plunged in darkness, and there was a human woman kneeling on the floor in front of me, with her back turned to me. Samina.

She later told me that she had defeated the Entity – she insists that it was more from luck than anything else – and that she had thought I was some kind of statue, until I spoke up behind her. She had come to Altara in the pursuit of a criminal, and I agreed to go with her until we caught up with my team.

We never did. We met the dwarves down there, and defeated a demon that Mr Taskkarr had tracked to the place. We saw the criminal that Samina chased be eaten by the same demon, and we got ourselves out of there as well, but never did we see any trace of the other Crusaders.

Later, when we ran into a tribe of forest elves, I learnt that I had been imprisoned down there – caught in some kind of stasis… for eight hundred years."

Once again the elf's mind seemed to be far away but it was without emotion that he spoke:

 "Eight hundred years, in the blink of an eye." 

Then his mind seemed to return to the present and he glanced over at Judeau. "So you see, if Samina had not come and defeated the Entity, I could have been standing there forever. I do not fear death, indeed, I do not fear anything – but this: to be removed from the circle of rebirth… forever… all elves fear that fate. Even the Crusaders." Still holding Judeau captive with his eyes, Steelwing's quiet voice softened further. "My debt to her is one that cannot be repaid. _She_ claims to be following _me_, but in truth… wherever she goes, I will follow. I am her sword, now."

_Her sword…_ Judeau nodded slowly. "I understand."

And he did. The fierce loyalty that the Crusader spoke of was something he had seen before – though maybe not for the same reasons. _Odd,_ he thought, _the guy I thought was the most like Griffith… now almost seem to have more in common with Caska. Funny how things can be, sometimes…_

Steelwing regarded him closely for a moment, and then he leaned back, seeming pleased.

 "Yes, I think you do."

They sat for a while in silence, and despite of everything, Judeau's eyes were beginning to drift shut. He knew that he would inevitably fall asleep, but the prospect of more horrible nightmares seemed all too possible, and in an attempt to avoid the lure of sleep, the scout spoke up again.

 "Um… what had happened to the other Crusaders?"

Steelwing gave off something that could have been a sigh. "Long dead and gone. Elves can live for hundreds of years, but should we become Crusaders, our life expectancy shortens dramatically."

 "Wow, hundreds of years?" Judeau looked up at the elf. "How old are you?"

 "Hmm… not counting the eight hundred years in the stasis, I am …eighty-three. Still quite young, in other words." The he made that sighing sound again. "But I was supposed to have died at least seven hundred and fifty years ago."

Steelwing said nothing more and Judeau didn't know what to say, so the silence dragged out between them again.

_I was supposed to have died…_ Judeau turned his palm up and studied the jagged burn mark again. There were faint traces of blood around it, something he hadn't noticed up until now.

 "I was supposed to have died," he mused out loud, "almost three months ago."

Steelwing's silence was attentive, and Judeau continued with a sigh:

 "I lost everything that day. Everything. From the moment I saw what they had done to Griffith, I started losing… When I saw his broken, tortured body, I lost all hopes for a better, brighter future. When we escaped from Windham, I lost many comrades." He gave a small, humourless laugh. "But that was nothing, of course, compared to those who had already died… and those who were about to die. If I had known that there were creatures such as 'God Hand'… If I had known about the offer they would make Griffith… I heard them, you know. We all did. Their voices were something you felt, rather than heard… they echoed inside our heads and resounded in our hearts. We heard everything… which made it so much more painful, when…" Judeau closed his eyes against the memory, but in his heart, he heard the faint echo: 

_'…I make the offering…'_

There was a lump in his throat as he continued, "And I'm sure that that was exactly the purpose. They wanted us to suffer, as much as possible."

 "That is the way of demons," Steelwing said quietly.

 "I lost them all. I don't even know if I managed to help save Caska. In my nightmare I saw them all die – everyone I've ever cared for… and when I woke up, _this_ was there. The Brand of the Sacrifice, the mark that he placed on us. What if what I saw was a vision, and not a dream?"

 "Yes, what if?" Judeau looked up at the Crusader, who was looking intently at him. "What if it was? Does it matter if they are dead or not? You are in a different world now, Mr Judeau, you will never see them again, anyway." Steelwing made a sound surprisingly close to a huff and leaned back. Never taking his eyes off of Judeau's, he kept speaking: "Sure, right now you are grieving them, you are sad and angry – angry enough to chase the one who took them away from you, wherever he might run to, and kill him – slowly. And, strangely enough, you are also angry with those who died. Angry that they disappeared and left you behind, angry that they were not strong enough to avoid getting killed… and these thoughts in turn make you feel guilty and ashamed." Steelwing shut himself up with a visible effort. Judeau tried not to gape at the Crusader, because not only did everything he had said ring true, he had spoken more passionately than ever before, and there was still a burning heat in his eyes as he spoke in his usual, calm, unemotional tone again:

 "But the human heart is a fickle thing; you will soon enough forget them, and go on with your life as if they had never existed at all."

The elf then stood up, gathered his things and walked away from the fire. He sat down on the ground at the edge of the firelight and turned his back on the flickering flames.

 "Try to get some sleep, Mr Judeau," he called back in a cool, unemotional voice, but Judeau felt that there had been a lingering, hard edge in the words.

_What was that all about?_ He thought to himself as he got up and slowly walked back to the tent. He glanced back at the statuesque form of the Crusader before letting the tent flap close behind him. _It almost seemed like he was angry at me, for some reason._

As Judeau nestled down onto his bedroll and yawned, he thought about the Crusader's words and felt a painful sting in his chest.

_…But I don't want to forget them…_

And then all thoughts were swept away as the exhausted scout fell into a much needed but fitful sleep.

-*--*-

Don't forget to comment!

------

Aaand RR (Whoa, lots of rewievs this time! :D ):

Smack54: I'm very happy that you are enjoying the story so far! …As for the murvels, I thought that since I skipped the travelling sequences entirely, it would be okay to not mention them… or do you want even _longer_ chapters? ;)

Niclas: Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch… *bows* 'As you command… my king.'

Hott: Hee hee, I toldja I might be able to keep surprising you. Your thoughts on this _Steelwing heavy_ chapter?

Gorgonzola: LOL! Thank you, thank you ever so much. *bows* *bows*

Rose: Yes, I am evil. At least a little. Thank you. ;)

Berzerkerprime: I know, I know… but who said a demonically induced nightmare had to show you the _truth_? ;)

Nada: Now you know. I'll get right on the next chapter. :)

Hawk Dreas: Ah, yes… one of these days I might. Just have to get a solid idea for a story first…

TCA: thanks, THANK YOU, you are absolutely right and I will.

Julia: *GLOWS* Hee hee… I am so sorry for making you suffer like this. Really, I am! ^_^

Gatsu'sHumongousSword: Thanks! I'm working on it.

Thor: …………… Brother, oh brother… wherefore art thou so evil? Don't go making promises I can't keep, and FOR THE LAST TIME: IF YOU KILL ME, I CAN'T KEEP WRITING! Don't make me punch you in the guts. I may not be Taskkarr, but you know it'll hurt.


	11. The Measure of a Life

So… how to begin. I can only say that I am sorry for the unbelievably long delay in updates. I have plenty of reasons as to why, but I'm sure you don't want to hear them.

Y'all can hate me now if you want to… *scratches head* I wouldn't blame you, really… but _I_ am actually quite proud of myself. I had so many things going against me, and still I pushed through and kept on writing. And I will continue to do so, no matter what – count on it.

Still, though… the second half of this GODAWFULLY long chapter is not yet good enough to me, so I will have to split this chapter – If only to get myself off my back about posting so I can have some calm and peace to re-write the second half.

It won't take as long as this one did, though. That's a promise. ^_~

-*--*-

Chapter eleven: The measure of a life

Judeau tightened the last strap on Packer's saddle and looked back at where the others were packing up camp. Everyone but the elf looked less than rested and would occasionally stop to yawn, except for Judeau himself, who felt deceptively alert. He knew that he hadn't slept for long, and with the short, intense nightmares that had plagued what little sleep he'd got, he certainly wasn't rested – but the only thing that served to remind him of this was a faintly dulled feeling in the back of his mind. 

He turned back to the small horse and smiled to himself. _I am so tired that I don't even have the energy to be sleepy._

The smile died half-born on his lips. He also knew that he was distracting himself; thinking about how tired he must be helped him not to think about all that had happened last night… and all that might come of it. He sighed and pushed those thoughts away again – it was just too much to deal with right now. Patting packers chestnut neck, he murmured quietly: 

"It must be nice, being a horse." The pony idly flicked an ear at him, and he felt another tired little smile tug at the corner of his lips. "So much simpler, for a start…" 

"Good morning, Judeau." 

Startled, he turned around to find Samina standing behind him with a very serious look on her face. He felt himself tense up, remembering the rather foul mood she had been in only a few hours ago, but greeted her with a smile and a nod. 

"Good morning." _Now what?_

Samina's expression did not change, but her voice was as level and polite as always: "Two things, if you've got the time…?" 

Wary and a little perplexed, he nodded at her to go on. Her posture changed slightly and a faint reddish tinge crept onto her face: 

"Okay, first of all, I want to apologise for yelling at you yesterday. You had had a hard time already, and I had no right to just accuse you the way I did." She heaved a small, embarrassed sigh. "I really hate losing my temper like that, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." 

Judeau relaxed a little and managed a more genuine smile. 

"Oh, it's okay. I'm on a forgiving streak right now…" She raised a confused eyebrow and he had to look away, himself. Still smiling, he tiredly shook his head. "No… to be honest… I did act like an idiot when I ran off like that. You had every right to be angry." He scratched his neck, sighing, "I'm the one who should be apologising." 

"Well… I can't really argue with that," Samina hesitantly replied, "But I was still being unnecessarily…" Then she suddenly caught herself and ran one hand over her face. When she looked up again, it was with a somewhat amused smile. "All right, let's just say that we were both stupid and leave it at that, shall we?" 

Judeau blinked at her, and then felt a similar smile break out on his own face. 

_Sweet heaven, we were almost arguing about who would get to apologise. If that isn't stupid, I don't know what is._

"Sure," he chuckled, giving her a thumbs-up sign. She made a short, equally self-conscious snorting sound, before composing herself and carefully rearranging her features into their original seriousness. 

"All right. Okay. Then, the second thing: I am also sorry that I haven't explained to you about my Birthright yet. It is something that you really must know about, if you are going to stay on our team for any longer time…" She paused and shrugged. "And, I don't know, maybe if I had had the spine to tell you about this sooner, you wouldn't have scared the crap out of me the way you did last night." 

He frowned in confusion. "You mean, when I ran off?" 

"What? No, no, not that. You know full well that that was… not the brightest thing to do, without me telling you again. No, I meant later, when we were trying to get away from the ghosts and I…" She caught herself again, and shook her head as if to clear it. "No, hang on, we're starting at the wrong end, here. If anything of what I have to say is going to make any kind of sense to you, I have to begin with explaining about the Void." 

Judeau leaned back against Packer, leisurely crossing his arms over his chest. _I was right – If I just waited, she would tell me herself._

"Okay, go ahead." 

"Thanks." She flashed him another quick smile. "I know you've been curious, and I appreciate that you didn't press me about it. Though, maybe you should have. You deserve to know." She paused for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing her scarred nose, as she deliberated on what she wanted to say. 

"All right," she began, adopting a scholarly manner that she must have gotten straight off of Thirgynn, "Like a Healer's gift, the Void will not be apparent to anyone unless I choose to use it. When it is dormant – or 'closed' – like now, I am as normal as the next person… but when I activate it, it makes me completely immune to magic. Any spell or natural magical phenomena that tries to affect me will be immediately absorbed by the Void, leaving no effects or traces of itself." She cocked her head to the side and smiled again. "So now you know why I wasn't cursed along with the others." 

Judeau nodded slowly in comprehension. "Yes, I understand. Wow, that must be useful – and I can understand why you don't want everyone to know about it, you want to keep the element of surprise." 

"Yeah, well… It's partly that. Yes, it's good that it's not common knowledge that 'the female bounty-hunter who tags along with the Crusader and the two dwarves' is also magically untouchable, but the moment I activate it, every mage and sensitive magical creature around will immediately know, so… I'm not sure about 'element of surprise', really. The other reason why I prefer not to tell people is because of the way they tend to react when they learn of what happens if the Void absorbs too much magic. You see… the more energy it takes in, the stronger it grows, and if I don't close it to let it subside for a while, it will eventually reach a point where I can't hold it in anymore and it overwhelms me. And when that happens… people around me… dies." 

Judeau's eyebrows rose in surprise. She seemed very sincere. 

"Really?" he prodded carefully, "Just like that, or… how?" 

"Does it matter?" She met his eyes with a hard, almost cold look on her face. "They die, friends and foes alike. Do you really need to know exactly _how_, to understand how serious that is?" 

Judeau held her gaze for a moment. _Yep, this is the sore spot. It makes her uncomfortable – almost to the point of being afraid, I'd say… but whatever else, it is definitely the reason why she doesn't want to talk about her Birthright. If I press her, she'll probably tell me, but…_ He painted a smile on his face and gave a slight, carefree shrug. 

"No, I guess not." 

"Good. And …thanks." Then she sighed, and all the hardness was suddenly gone from her features. Now, she looked merely tired – tired, and regretful. "So now that you know that, I absolutely understand if you'd rather not stay with us. But before you decide anything, I just want you to know that I have complete control over the opening of the Void – it can't become active unless I make a _conscious_ effort to open it, and I know exactly how much magic I can take in. _And_ I can close the Void before it overwhelms me." She paused again and he noticed how her hand idly began playing with the strap of her morningstar. After a short moment her shoulders drooped slightly. 

"Well, most of the time, anyway," she quietly admitted. 

Judeau frowned thoughtfully. 

"Uh… Okay, so you're saying that you don't have complete control over this dangerous… ability of yours? Just how easily can you lose it, then?" 

"Normally, there's no danger at all – I don't lose myself just like that. But you've got to understand that the stronger it gets, the more I have to concentrate on keeping it down. And… I could, technically, also _yield_ control at any time once it is opened, even without absorbing any magic. But believe me," she hastily added, "I will not even open the Void unless I really, really have to. The risk that anything would go wrong is very small, but it's there, and that's enough for me to keep it closed. But… the situation may arise when I _have_ to use the Void – and maybe even release it, if I can see absolutely no other way to reverse an otherwise hopeless situation. It has happened… and given such a choice, I will do whatever I have to do to survive." 

The scar-faced woman raised a stalling finger, even though Judeau had made no effort to interrupt her, and her voice became slightly softer, "But rest assured that if we would ever get into such a situation, I will warn you first – and I will absolutely try to buy time so that any ally of mine will have the chance to get as far away as possible. Like what happened last night…" She paused and frowned thoughtfully at him. "I don't know how much you can remember about that…?" 

"Not much," he admitted, letting out a long breath and uncertainly scratching the back of his neck. "A lot of it is just a confused blur, really." 

"I figured as much – Possession will do that to you. Okay, I'll recap: We were running from the ghosts, but we weren't going fast enough. If they had caught up with us, I am certain that they would have tried to possess you again, and you were out of strength: if they had gotten to you, you would have died. I couldn't rely on the others reaching us in time, and none of my weapons works against incorporeal enemies like that, so the only option I saw to get us both out of there alive was to let you run on ahead, while I stayed behind and took as many ghosts as I could into the Void. That would certainly have overloaded me, so I told you to get yourself away from there… but you didn't. You came back and – it was a nice thought, but like I said, it scared the living crap out of me – for some reason, you put yourself between me and the ghosts." 

Judeau's head was now humming with garbled half-memories. He thought he could remember a female voice screaming at him to run, as an unspecified but terrifying danger approached her rapidly, but it kept getting mixed up with memories of another female voice insisting that he keep moving, keep struggling, from a very similar situation – and he remembered the sudden, desperate need to protect her, no matter what the cost. He blinked at Samina, but before he could say anything, she frowned slightly and continued: 

"That was quite reckless of you – very much unlike the Judeau I think I know." Then she shrugged and looked away, a faint shadow of embarrassment passing over her features again. "Of course, you had just been possessed and weren't entirely 'there', and you had no idea of what kind of danger you were putting yourself into. That was all my fault, for not telling you sooner. But Judeau…" She gave him a very direct and serious look, her odd-coloured eyes boring into his. 

"_If_ you still want to be one of us, you're going to have to promise me that when I tell you to leave me behind and run for your life, you'll hopping well run for your life. Can you do that?" 

_Just what I needed,_ a small voice in the back of his mind grumbled to itself. _More potential problems to worry about._

He regarded her for a moment, again pushing the incoherent memories of last night into the background, to focus on the subject at hand. He turned all of what she'd told him over in his mind, and reached a decision. 

"Sure I can," he said, finally, "But what about you, then?" 

The simple question seemed to catch her completely off guard. 

"…Me?" 

"Yes, you. If all of us leave you behind in a danger so great that our combined efforts can't defeat it, will you really be okay?" 

She watched him in stunned silence, a look of incredulity on her face, until her mouth started twitching and she broke out in a huffing giggle. 

"Sacred light!" she laughed, "Are you for real? Here I am telling you how dangerous I can be to everyone around me, to my friends and allies, and you are concerned about _me?_ If you had any kind of sense of self-preservation in you, you would be running for the hills by now! Or haven't you been listening to a thing I've said?" 

"No, I've been listening," he answered, serious. "You've said that you won't use the Void unless the situation gets really desperate, and you won't release it without warning us. As I understand it, you will do whatever you can to keep any ally out of harm's way. Am I right?" 

"Why… yes, absolutely…" she stammered, her mirth fading away again. Judeau continued, 

"Well, then you have answered all the questions I have about my own safety. Then I start worrying about the rest of my team – and from what I can tell, you've already warned Taskkarr, Thirgynn and Steelwing about this, so they're prepared and can get themselves out of it. That leaves – you. In a very tight spot." He frowned at her and straightened up. "See, I don't like the thought of leaving a member of my team behind. Especially not a lady. If you are going to take on some kind of awful danger to let the rest of us escape, I want to know if you can handle it. If you'll be all right, or if you need someone to help you out or something…" 

"Mm-hmm," Samina interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest, a sudden anger burning in her eyes. "First of all, I am not, nor have I ever been, a 'lady'. Secondly, are you saying that you think I may not be able to handle it, because I am a _woman?_ I thought more highly of you than that." 

"Hey. No. No, no, no. That didn't come out right: I meant to say that I do find it hard to believe that you, alone, will be able to handle something that all of us, _together,_ can't – But it has nothing to do with your sex. It's just that I really hate seeing women get hurt, that's all… But that's my own problem, and I know it." 

The anger visibly drained away from her and she sighed, wearily rubbing her forehead. "Yeah, okay, I understand. I'm sorry." She looked up at him again with a small, apologetic smile. 

"You don't have to worry about me, Judeau. I do _not_ need any help, and if you come back for me it's the same as staying – you'll most likely die, so don't. If I say that I can handle it, just trust me. I like my life and I want to preserve it." A hint of mischief snuck into her features and her smile widened. "Unlike someone else I know, who will readily jump right into the jaws of danger without a second thought." 

Judeau grinned. "Ah, you mean Taskkarr? Or perhaps Steelwing?" 

She blinked at him twice, and then burst out into a hearty laughter. 

"I was actually thinking about your little stunt with the ghosts," she finally managed to sputter, "but by the Gods, you are right. I'm surrounded by madmen!" 

Judeau kept grinning, his self-confidence and mood boosted as he counted one point to himself. 

"Well," Samina giggled when her laughter subsided. "That shut me up. But you've never seen them fight… how did you know?" 

"Oh, _you_ know. You're good at watching people." He shrugged. "It's the way they say and do certain things… if you know what to look for, you can easily predict how a person will behave on the battlefield." 

"True." She nodded, still smiling in that brilliantly genuine way of hers. "Looks like we can make a bounty hunter of you yet. And I'm glad that you've decided to stay with us." 

"I never said I would." 

"Yes you did." The spark in her eye said that she knew that he was messing with her. She shook a half-scolding finger at him. "I am good at watching people, don't you know? And listening to them, too – you were talking about us as 'your team' and used the words 'we' and 'us' a few times as well, if I remember correctly." 

He grinned and shrugged again, placing his hands behind his head and stretching leisurely. 

"Well, I don't know where else I'd go. it's not like I know anywhere better to be. 'Sides, you are a strange bunch of people, but I still like you somehow – even if it seems like any one of you could be the end of me – and I figure that the best way to explore a strange and dangerous new world is with an equally strange and dangerous group of people." 

"Now, that actually does make a screwy kind of sense… but…" Her smile became a little more uncertain. "…What do you mean about 'anyone of us would be the end of you'? I told you that _I_ might, but only in an extreme situation and…" 

He silenced her with a calm gesture. "I know, I know… and I do trust you. All of you, but… well…" He smiled lopsidedly and began counting off of his fingers. "Taskkarr is quick to anger and quicker to violence. Thirgynn is going to perform some kind of magical 'divination' ritual on me tonight, and God only knows what'll happen to me if _that_ goes awry. Steelwing… well, Steelwing actually _told_ me last night that he is going to kill me, if I let… the team down." 

"Really?" She raised one eyebrow and regarded him with an unreadable look on her face for a short moment. Then she smiled and gave a small shrug. "Well, you don't really have to worry about the dwarves – they are more in control than they appear to be… and I am glad to see that you two boys are getting along so well." 

He blinked. "Sorry, what?" 

Her smile widened into a grin. "You and Steelwing. After all, he only gives a warning to those he thinks are worth something." 

*  
"Eyes open, manling! This isn't some kind of pleasure-trip, you know!" Judeau returned to the here-and-now just in time to catch the branch that Taskkarr had released, before it hit him in the stomach. 

"My eyes _are_ open," he retorted with a quick grin, and bent the branch aside so he could pass. "My mind just begins to wander when we have to move so slowly." 

The demon-hunter narrowed his eyes at the not-very-subtle jibe at short dwarven legs, and Judeau gave him an innocent smile in return. If Thirgynn had heard anything, he chose to ignore it and kept trudging along by Shammael's side, in the lead of their little party. 

"Keep moving, both of you, or we'll never make it back before nightfall." Samina gave Taskkarr's helmet a light shove as she walked past him, and the dwarf huffed indignantly, turned and hurried his gait until he was abreast with Steelwing and the bounty hunter was once again behind him. 

Judeau smiled to himself and re-took to his position next to Samina, bringing up the rear along with her as their trek took them ever further into the dark, dense forest. 

It had been almost five days since the reappearance of the Brand, and two since they had arrived at the Healer's home. With a little bit of luck, they would have enough Dusklily by tonight for Shammael to begin removing the magical resonance of the baldness curse – So Taskkarr was in much too merry a mood to remember Judeau's little barb for long. He was soon back to almost skipping (If that word could really be applicable to a creature such as the dwarf) along the poorly used forest path, humming what sounded like a dwarven marching-tune under his breath. 

Judeau's smile widened. In these last two days, he had been treated to a completely different aspect of the dwarven attitude; it appeared that the happier the small men were, the more boisterous did they become. There had been many enthusiastic recitals of dwarven poetry, much deep-voiced singing and loud, booming laughter in front of Shammael's fireplace in the evenings, and even the old Healer seemed to get caught up in the mirth of the two dwarves from time to time – apparently even enough to forget how uncomfortable it must feel for him to have so many people in his house, all at once. 

Judeau's smile faded away and he narrowly suppressed a sigh as his mind began to wander once more. No amount of boisterous laughter, incomprehensible (but strangely inspiriting) recitals of dwarven songs and poems, or hearty dunks on the back, could fully dispel the dark thoughtfulness that kept lingering on his mind. 

The horrid dreams had faded quite rapidly, and would now come only about once a night, feeling much more like nightmares _should,_ unreal and comparatively easily forgotten – but he still didn't sleep well. He'd been laying awake for maybe hours on end, thinking, remembering, pondering…. 

He found his eyes drawn to the woman walking by his side, and again he felt that eerie, uncomfortable stirring of déjà vu as he took in the sight of her in her helmet. She couldn't help it, of course; if anyone was to blame – beside his own vivid imagination and uncomfortable memories – it was Taskkarr, who had apparently crafted the headdress as a play on her taken surname 'Falcon'. 

The beak-like extension that almost reached down to cover her mouth, the slanted eye-slits, the rounded-off back of the head… when Samina looked serious and focused behind that metal-mask, like now, the outward similarities between her and Griffith were uncomfortably striking. 

But the outward similarities were the _only_ similarities, he reminded himself, and they weren't dead-on, either. Samina's helmet lacked a chin-guard, its 'beak' was more defined, and it had softly curved-out 'eyebrows' that enhanced the stern, focused bird-of-prey look. But still… the first time she had put it on, it had been all he could do not to recoil from her in pure chock. 

Something tugged at his attention as he forced his gaze away from the bounty hunter and pretended to scan the surrounding forest, but it was drowned out by another surge of discomfort as his gaze settled on the broad back of Shammael. The Healer's shoulders were tense and slightly hunched, and he walked without the careful deliberation that Judeau had always known him to use in the past, whenever he got a certain distance away from his little cabin. Judeau felt his hand clench, almost involuntarily, and he imagined that he could feel the outline of the demonic rune like a faint tingle against his skin. Thanks to _it,_ Judeau's mere presence was making Shammael sick to his stomach – and that really didn't feel like a good way to pay the old man back for all that he had done for him. Judeau pressed down on another sigh. He knew what he would have to do…. 

That thing tugging at the back of his mind was jumping up and down now, trying to call his attention back to the present. He frowned and glanced back over at Samina, ignoring the cold shiver of recognition that rippled through his stomach, and let his eyes travel down to her hand. It was fiddling with the strap of her morningstar. 

His mind returned fully to the here-and-now and he looked up again, finally noticing the thoughtful frown on her face. 

"What is it?" 

She didn't look back at him but frowned deeper behind her metal mask, her gaze uncertainly darting over the surroundings. 

"I'm not sure." Her voice was slightly more hushed than his. "I have a feeling like we're being watched, but I can't say that it's not just paranoia." 

Judeau let his gaze inconspicuously travel over the trees and dense foliage, focusing on the forest around him for the first time in quite a while, searching, listening… He could hear no sounds to indicate pursuit, nor could he see any out-of-place movements – but there _was_ something that wasn't quite right… 

"It's not just paranoia," he mumbled quietly. "Listen… this forest is always full of birdsong, but many birds fall quiet when there are people about. The nearest one is too far away, even considering the noise Taskkarr and Thirgynn are making." Samina looked over at him, and he nodded cautiously. "I think we're surrounded." 

Samina leaned forward slightly and tapped Steelwing's pauldron. 

"Steel-" She began, but was interrupted by the elf's equally quiet voice: 

"I heard you. And Mr. Judeau is right – I can hear them. Heavy creatures, but quick and silent…" the Crusader paused for a moment, surreptitiously turning his head this way and that. "Behind and on both sides of us. There might be some in front of us as well." 

Taskkarr turned his head and gave the 'longlings' a suspicious glare. 

"What are you lot mumbling about? Can't you speak up like proper, honourable people?" 

Judeau resisted the impulse to shush at the dwarf and instead leaned forward, speaking as quietly as possible. 

"We are being followed. Steelwing says that he can hear creatures all around us." 

"Indeed?" Frowning, the dwarf turned back and sniffed carefully at the air. After a moment he spoke again, only a nuance more silently than before, "Well, now that I think about it… there _is_ a stronger scent of beast on the wind." He tapped his knuckles against Steelwing's thigh, earning himself a slightly annoyed glance from the Crusader. The demon hunter grinned back and brandished his axe. "You might be right, elf. I hope they attack!" 

At this gleeful announcement, both Thirgynn and Shammael stopped and turned around. 

"What?" the old Healer demanded, "Who?" 

Thirgynn turned to Taskkarr with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation on his face. "Are we being followed? By who, or what?" 

Beside Judeau, Samina sighed and voiced the scout's own concerns in a weary whisper: 

"We'll probably find out, now when they know that we've noticed them…" 

-   
And indeed, only a stone's throw further along the path, they were met by one of their 'pursuers' in a small glade. 

Judeau could only stare in awe and trepidation at the beast before them. Black-coated and towering, it would have dwarfed even Gatts by a head or two, and seemed muscular enough to have been able to wrestle down mighty Pippin without too much effort. From atop the broad, massive shoulders the head of a bull glared down at them with fierce, intelligent eyes, and beneath its leather loincloth two absurdly muscular legs, with one too many pairs of knees, stretched out, ending in cloven hooves instead of feet. Strips of cloth and leather were tied around the sharp, menacing horns, and in one monstrous hand the creature held an axe that would easily have been a two-handed – if not three-handed – weapon to any normal-sized person. 

Samina inhaled sharply as the huge, threatening shape came into view. 

"Minotaurs. Drat." 

For a moment, the small team and the bull-headed giant studied each other in silence. Then Shammael took a few steps forward, holding his hands out in front of himself, palms up. 

"Greetings, mighty one…" he began, but the minotaur cut him off with a deep, bass bellow: 

"Oo is tres-passig! Vis is our grounds! Go 'way!" For emphasis, it pointed with its axe back at the way they had come. Shammael raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, sounding as calm and reasonable as only he could when he really wanted to. 

"We'll soon be gone, we just want to pick these flowers, that's all." Judeau tore his eyes away from the minotaur long enough to glance over at where Shammael was pointing, and noticed a few oblong, white leaves where they peeked out from under a dense bush. Dusklily. 

"No!" Rumbled the bull-headed giant. "Vis is our grounds, an' all what grow here is ours! Oo Go 'way!" 

Shammael took another step forward, but halted abruptly as the black bull huffed threateningly at him. 

"Mighty one," he said, with growing confusion evident in his voice and manner, "Don't you recognise me? You've let me pick these flowers on your grounds many times before. It's me, the Healer! I have treated your wounded more than-" 

"LIAR!!!" The bellow was deafening. "Oo is not de Healer! Oo look like de Healer, but oo cannu fool de taurs, dirty, dirty liar!" The minotaur pulled its lips back in a snarl that revealed several sharp, yellowish fangs, and its eyes suddenly burned with rage. Shammael took a startled step back in the face of this sudden and very lethal fury, stammering: 

"Bu-but I _am_ the Healer! I _am!_ W-why would I lie about that?!" 

The minotaur's eyes narrowed and its voice lowered to a deep, rumbling growl worthy of any murvelbeast: 

"How dare oo fink de taurs so stupid? Taurs owe de Healer much, much! Oo fink oo can fool taurs to give oo whadever oo wants, jus' because oo look like de Healer? Oo wrong!" From the corner of his eye, Judeau saw Samina tighten the strap of her morningstar around her wrist, and Steelwing stealthily loosen his swords in their scabbards. The minotaur was beyond reasoning now. "Stupid, dirty liar! Taur can _feel_ Healer!" He roared, "But taur no feel oo!!" And then, with a mighty battle-bellow, he lunged at Shammael. 

Time slowed down for Judeau, as it tended to do when things began happening very rapidly. He saw Shammael lift his arms in a hopelessly futile effort to save himself, the axe at his side apparently forgotten. He saw Steelwing draw his blades and step out in front of the Healer, in the exact same heartbeat as Taskkarr threw himself forward into the minotaur's path, his dwarven battle axe already describing a calculated arc towards the beast's midsection. He heard Thirgynn chant something and saw the miracle-worker's skin begin to turn grey and hard – like stone. 

And he saw Samina turn around the way they had come, shouting a quick and urgent warning. Without expending further thought on it, he spun around, his hand instinctively reaching up to his chest. The enormous beast bearing down on him presented a nice, big target, and in the space between one heartbeat and the next, three sharp steel points had embedded themselves deeply in the body of the ambushing minotaur. The reddish-brown beast faltered, dropped its club and gave a deep, hateful, feral gurgle before it unceremoniously toppled over and crashed to the ground, red blood pouring out from its now-empty eye socket and the small, deep wounds in its throat and chest. But Judeau didn't get any time to enjoy his victory, nor a chance to release any more knives; the minotaurs were fast and furious, and the scout only narrowly avoided getting brained – by a fearsome blow from an equally fearsome club – by means of a quick and purely instinctive dodge. With one down, there were three more bulls for Samina and him to deal with, two of which were engaging the bounty hunter – and he could hear more beasts erupt from the underbrush all around the glade. 

_There are at least ten of them…._ Still desperately dodging the furious onslaught by the club-wielding minotaur, he reached around and pulled out one of his scimitars. From out of the turmoil behind him, he heard Taskkarr bellow – sounding just a little bit too cheerful: 

"The big one with the horns is mine!!" 

_Yeah, that really narrows it down,_ Judeau thought dryly, and then swiftly slunk in under the minotaur's heavy swipe, burying his scimitar deeply into the furry throat. He finished his opponent off with a quick twist and slash, leaving the beast to drown in its own blood as he turned, taking a quick look at the situation. 

Taskkarr had just managed to dodge a horribly powerful blow from the black, axe-wielding 'mighty one', but the minotaur was very fast indeed and before the demon hunter had a chance to act, the black bull sent him tumbling across the ground with a hard and well-aimed kick. Steelwing was standing over the corpse of one bull-headed beast, deftly evading the quick and furious blows from two other. As Judeau watched, the Crusader slid in between their flailing weapons with seemingly effortless ease, struck out at both sides with all the speed and deadly precision of a viper, and slipped out on the other side completely unscathed. When the metal-faced elf turned around to face his opponents once more, only one still stood – but the blood gushing forth from its stomach indicated that the beast would not remain on its feet for much longer. 

Shammael had finally drawn his battle-axe and was desperately parrying the heavy blows from one minotaur, each clash of metal driving the old man several steps back – but three more were coming at him. 

Before Judeau had had a chance to call out a warning to the Healer, there was a sudden flash of light followed by a wave of heat, and the three bulls were engulfed in a cloud of roaring flames. Thirgynn, now looking every bit like a clothed stone statue, slowly turned away from the burning, panicking minotaurs – too slowly, as the black 'mighty one' came up behind him and caught the miracle-worker right in the neck with one fell swoop of its axe, effortlessly smashing the stone-like dwarf to the ground. Judeau only had time to see Taskkarr furiously fly back into combat – small and unstoppable like a very angry cannonball, before his attention was riveted back to Samina by means of a sharp cry of pain. 

He turned to see her stagger backwards, trying to fend the one remaining minotaur off with her sword, while her right arm hung limply from her side, twisted at an unnatural angle and weighed down by the morningstar that was still fastened around her wrist. She was actually keeping the bull at bay, but not by much – and if the whiteness of her face was anything to go by, she was in too much pain to notice the second minotaur bearing down on her from behind, with its giant mace raised for a crushing, final blow. 

There was no way that that mace could be blocked, and even a knife in the eye might not be enough to prevent the blow from impacting, at this point. From the corner of his eye, Judeau saw a flash of silver and knew that Steelwing was on the intercept, but though the Crusader could be frighteningly fast, he was just a little bit too far away… 

By the time Judeau realised what he had to do, his body had already acted on it. He crashed into Samina palm-first and sent her sprawling to the ground, but didn't get a chance to join her – the fearsome blow meant for Samina's head had changed direction, faster than he would have thought possible, and it caught him a glancing hit in the ribs. The monstrous force behind the blow lifted him off his feet and sent him spinning through the air. 

He turned in mid-flight, just in time to see Steelwing decapitate the mace-wielding bull and then – before the heavy, headless body had even begun to fall – buried his twin blades up to their hilts in the chest of the other minotaur. Then Judeau's entire world was jarred out of focus as he smacked spine-first into the thick trunk of a tree. His breath was torn out of his lungs, and a searing pain rippled through his body. 

He fell towards the ground, but blacked out long before he hit it.

-*--*-

Okay, now remember that this chapter was not supposed to end here, so I didn't really MEAN to leave it in a cliffhanger. *curls up behind Taskkarr* Don't hurt me, and I will get the second part up as soon as possible! Honest! 

Please review, though, so I know if this part still needs improving, and if someone's still interested in this story. ^_^

RR: (because hope is the last to abandon man…)

nada: ^_^;;; Yes… I am soo, soo sorry – but after so many good chapters, I can't post something as crappy as the earlier versions of this chapter were… forgive me?

Rose: I hope you still want to read more, 'cause there is more coming. I am so glad that you enjoyed the last chapter so much!

TCA: *Blushes* Don't worry, I will! Thank you.

Berzerkerprime: Thank you. I'm sorry for the splitting here, but it's not as awkward a break as the last chapter would have had… 'pologies for the cliffy, though.

Stargazer Nataku: Thank you very much, I strive to write an interesting story. Again, sorry it took so long. :(

Gorgonzola: Thank you for all your support, and for not giving up on me despite everything. There will be more dwarfishness, don't you worry, as well as more on the dynamic duo. And yes, I am in pain.

Niclas and SKOBlack: Now, these boys seem awfully proud of me, don't they? *blushes* Much support here… it really helps. ^_^

Lizalou42: review 1: thank you very much! I intend to! Review 2: Thanks muchly for the 'not pressuring myself'. I need to loosen up a little, sometimes. And thanks for liking my website! Review 3: Really? Thank you! I love dialogue too (Like you couldn't tell…), and I do make an effort to make it believable.

Sara: I'm sorry, I should have been more careful with the spoiler warnings, I suppose. I e-mailed you with an apology, but I think it got lost…

Drachen: Yayy! Drachen's back! And still liking it, that's sweet! Sorry for splitting, but I REALLY had to… and Steely seems to be getting quite popular. Interesting.

Merina: Again, many apologies for the long delay. Thanks for reading and liking so far!

Hawkeye: thanks, but I have the storyline all thought out already. Y'know, if you want to read more about Gatts, read the manga. I can't ever compare to Mr. Miura's genius.

Brother Angelon: Thank you for reading, liking and reviewing! Are you a friend of Hawkeye's? I just don't want you to have any illusions, here: in this story, Judeau is, and will continue to be, the main character. Just so you know. Keep reading, though!

Karita: NO! not the big, teary manga eyes! Now I feel really bad for delaying so long… I share your need, though. That's why I'm writing, after all.

Gau: Thank you very much! I will!

Azrael: review 1: I would really hate to hurt you, so I'll keep writing. Thank you so much, I am blushing like crazy over here! Review 2: Thank you. I'm blushing again. Don't worry, I shall.

MTH: Yep! Still here! I am actually more active than I let on… ^_^;

A very special thank you goes to SKOBlack, Niclas, Hott and Gorgonzola for support and for believing in me when I didn't, myself. And to White_Aster, who's helped me more than she knows.

And now – fixing the second half…


	12. Your Life and Mine

Well, writing this story is just one long learning experience, isn't it? What have I learnt from writing this "chapter eleven"? A whole lot – but most importantly, I've learnt that I have little to no concept of how long my scenes sometimes need to be, if I will fit all I want to fit into them. I shall try to learn to pace myself.

Also, I have to realise that this story is writing itself the way it want to be written – and if I try to force it to contain more action than it wants, it'll turn out really bad. 

And I have quite a unique view on this project, as I am the creator, so I don't know… even though it feels to me as though the story is moving along really slowly, maybe it doesn't to you, the readers?

Ah well, enough rambling. Here it is:

-*--*-

Chapter twelve: Your life and mine

"He's not breathing! Shammael! He's not breathing!!" 

"Get out of the way, girl, before it's too late!" 

She'd heard that – heard every nuance of strain and urgency in the Healer's raspy voice – but she had barely even noticed the tremendous ripping, snapping sound in the background when the 'Mighty one' had torn a tree right out of the ground and thrown it at Taskkarr, nor the mighty bellow that had announced the minotaurs' retreat. 

She'd barely felt the pain when the old man shoved her aside, either, even though he almost grabbed her by her broken arm. There had only been numbness – a deafening, desensitising numbness that had made it hard to think and move. Part of it had been pain, admittedly, but the greatest part of it had been the inability to accept what had just happened, to understand why anyone would do something so stupid, reckless and so completely without sense and reason…. 

_This is no good. I can't keep dwelling on it like this._

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, intending to drive the bewildering thoughts, and perhaps some of the lingering numbness, away with a couple of deep breaths, but quickly opened her eyes and straightened up again. The image of his ashen face had hovered just inside her eyelids, waiting for her to let her guard down. 

_Gods, he looked so… empty. So lifeless._ She almost shivered. _Dead. I really thought he was dead. Only dead people look that empty._

She let her breath out through her nose and tapped her fingers against the side of the gently steaming cup she was holding in her hand. 

_He wasn't dead, Samina. Not even Healers can heal death. Just let it go, already._

More to distract herself than anything else, she took a deep swig from the cup and let the awful taste push the numbness away for a brief moment. Then she glanced down at the man on the bed beside her. 

He looked more like himself now; not quite as pale and empty anymore, thank the gods, and his thoroughly bandaged chest rose and fell rhythmically – but he still hadn't moved, not even an eyebrow. Not since they'd gotten him back here to Shammael's cabin, on the makeshift stretcher formerly known as the Healer's cloak and a few, unsuspecting young birches. Not since he'd been stripped down, placed in the bed, healed again and bandaged up. 

Shammael had hastily and with a look of looming defeat admitted that he had done as much as he could at the moment – temporarily patched up the broken bones in his spine and ribs, mended tissue and nerves as best he could – but that there might be more severe damage to his brain. This meant that, currently, the Healer could not say for certain if he would wake up again. Ever. 

Then he'd rushed off into the adjoining room and begun working on Taskkarr (who had been staggering and coughing blood in a most disconcerting way, but had insisted on walking all the way back on his own, announcing sluggishly that dwarves were made of sturdier stuff than manlings and elves, and that he'd suffered a lot worse than this at the hands of various demons), and had closed the door behind him. 

Samina regarded the youthful, unmoving features of Judeau's face, feeling a vague hint of nausea crawl around in her stomach, poking through the prevailing numbness. He looked kind of peaceful, as if he was merely sleeping – but without even the slightest flutter of an eyelid. She shivered and scowled menacingly at him, as if she could somehow make him wake up and apologise for causing her this discomfort, just by the fierceness of her glare. 

_Wake up, you hopping idiot. You damn fool. Wake up so I can smack some sense into you._

She almost jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder, but recognized the calm touch immediately – a touch that was significant because it was so rare. She looked up into Steelwing's cool, grey eyes. 

_Crap, I've really let this get to me – I didn't even notice him come in._

"Has there been any change?" the tall elf asked quietly. 

She looked away again, not feeling up to trying to analyse what she might glean in those carefully guarded, grey orbs. 

"No, nothing." 

By force of habit, she noted the message that he _wanted_ to send: This touch was his way of saying that he knew she was distraught, and that he didn't want her to be. It was a touch meant to help her keep her feet on the ground and her head on her shoulders – but the slight gentleness in his voice let her know that though he didn't 'approve' of her emotional state, he didn't think any less of her for it. 

Holding the steaming brew with her knees, she reached up and patted the long, cool fingers lightly. His hand lingered for a moment longer and then left her, having acknowledged her reassurance that she would be fine. 

As the elf turned to leave again, Samina couldn't stop herself from asking the one question that always seemed to pop up in his presence, and never seemed to get a decent answer: 

"Do you care, Steelwing?" 

She heard him pause and turn half way back towards her. 

"Certainly. He fought well and bravely. It would be a shame to lose such a skilled warrior after such a short time." 

She nodded to herself. 

"Of course." 

After only a brief silence she heard him turn around again and leave, quietly closing the door behind him. Samina let out a small sigh and wearily rubbed her brow. She still felt uncomfortably numb, but now, at least, there was the spark of frustration that she so well recognised and somehow made the world seem a little more as it should be. No matter what, Steelwing was still Steelwing – the man, the mystery. 

She felt her frown turn into a smile at that thought, and a silent chuckle spilled over her lips. 

"Shammael…?" 

Her head snapped to the side, all of the numbness suddenly and effectively gone. Judeau was frowning, his mouth and throat working slowly as if fighting back the dryness of a long sleep. Small, hesitant tendrils of relief began to snake their way into her chest, and she barely dared to breathe for fear that she was hoping for too much in this seemingly miraculous change, but she forced herself to speak: 

"…Judeau?" 

He frowned deeper, then, slowly blinking, opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to focus on her. He held her with a hazy, confused gaze for a short moment before a feeble smile of recognition lit up his face. 

"Samina. How are you?" 

The relief finally overpowered her defences and washed in over her, for a moment almost making her forget her nausea and worry. 

"How am _I?_" she laughed, shaking her head incredulously, "How are _you,_ you damn… hopping… gods-cursed… son of a…" 

She leaned back in her chair and let the relieved laughter wash away the worst of her worries for a short while. He was awake, and he was all right. Nobody had died for her stupid mistake. 

Finally, her giggles subsided and she looked down at him again. He was still watching her with a smile on his face, only now it was more the smile of a man who's missed the point of a joke, but didn't want to be rude and say so. It almost made her start laughing again, but she managed to rein it in. 

"I'm all right, thanks to you," she said softly. "Just a broken arm and some minor scratches. How are you feeling?" 

His right hand clenched and unclenched a few times as he seemed to ponder her question, then his smile returned. 

"Better. Sure, my chest hurts, my head feels kind of funny, and there's a strange smell in here, but at least this time my arm is intact – and instead of having a dog here, licking me, there's a woman, cursing at me." His smile widened somewhat and he looked away from her in mock contemplation. "Maybe next time there'll be a dog, cursing at me… orrrrr…" 

Though she didn't really understand all of what he was talking about, Samina got that part clear enough and gaped at him with an only half-joking astonished frown. 

"Judeau!" 

The blond man gave a short, hearty laugh that quickly turned into a groan of pain. His eyes immediately watered up and he clutched his own chest tightly, gasping for air. Samina put her cup on the nearby table, shaking her head, and walked over to the open fireplace and the small cauldron that hung over the smouldering embers. 

"You hopping fool," she murmured quietly, filling a second cup with the opaque potion. 

"I'm sorry," he wheezed when she returned, still with a smile – albeit a strained one – on his face. "Pain seems to bring out the silliness in me." 

"Well, that's one way of dealing with it, I suppose," she replied, holding the cup out for him. "Here, Shammael said to have you drink some of this, if you woke up. It'll help you heal and dull the pain. Tastes _awful,_ though, so be careful." 

Judeau gave the steaming cup a very suspicious glance. 

"Uh – huh... say, do you know if he's put any... um… 'Heart's Rest' in there?" 

"What?" She cocked her head to the side and frowned at him. "No, of course not, why would he do that?" 

"Ah, no. Nothing. I just… he did that before, so… uh, help me sit up, would you? It's kind of hard to drink when you're laying down…" 

"Yeah, sure." As she helped him slowly ease into a sitting position, propping him up with his pillow and a spare blanket, she thought his last statement over a few times, but still couldn't get it to make sense. 

"Say, Judeau," she prodded hesitantly, frowning in confusion, "_how_ funny does your head feel? Why would a Healer like Mr. Shammael try to poison you?" 

The blond man carefully leaned back, panting and almost sweating with the effort of keeping his pain at bay. He gave her an equally confused glance. 

"What?" 

Samina retrieved his cup from the table and handed it to him. "Heart's Rest is a deadly poison. Why would Mr. Shammael even know about such a drug, much less try to use it on anyone?" 

"It's only a poison," a deep, raspy voice wheezed from the other end of the room, "If you don't know the right dosage." 

The old Healer carefully closed the door to the adjoining room behind him and staggered over to the open fireplace, where he leaned himself heavily against the mantelpiece. He wiped the sweat from his unhealthily grey face with one big, trembling hand. 

"Heart's Rest," he mumbled hoarsely, as if reciting something to himself. "Only as much as would fit under your nail, mixed into a warm drink, and your heart will no longer remember painful things. A pinch, mixed into a warm drink, and your heart will forget all strong emotion. Two pinches, mixed into a warm drink, and you will forget all emotion. Three pinches or more is lethal, as it will take away all will or purpose to live, and make heartbeat and breathing stop." 

"Shammael?" the still weak-voiced Judeau asked tentatively, "Are you all right?" 

The Healer turned an ashen face towards the two of them and a wan smile made the wrinkles gather around his eyes. He looked very old, and very frail. 

"Ah, you're awake, boy. Good. Good, good. Had me worried there, for a minute." The old man leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to a sitting position. "I'm just a little tired, that's all," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "Too many broken bones, too much pain… too much… too much in one day." 

Samina rose, put her cup away again and hesitantly walked over to Shammael. She knelt down in front of him and studied his pale face worriedly. 

"You look awful, Mr. Shammael. Will you be okay? Is there anything I can help you with?" 

The old Healer opened his eyes again and frowned sternly at her. 

"The only thing I want you to do, Miss, is to sit still and drink my potion. I am old, you know, not helpless. I'm just a little tired right now, but if I can get a quick rest then I'll be able to heal you all up properly, and get your damn dwarves their curse-remedy." 

She gave him a lopsided smile in reply to his defensive aggression and stood up, offering him her hand. "Then I suggest you give yourself that quick rest, Sir." 

He huffed at her, but took her offered hand anyway. As he began pulling himself to his feet, Samina leaned forward and whispered quietly: 

"Or a long rest, for that matter. You've done enough for one day, wouldn't you say?" 

He said nothing, but she felt him give her hand a quick, grateful squeeze before he let it go again. 

"The dwarf will be okay," he said as he walked past her towards Judeau's bed. "It's godsdamned unbelievable how much damage those little squats can take before they actually die. So cursedly stubborn! He's got broken ribs, fractured head and spine, internal bleeding… bruises the size of bloody horses' heads!" Shaking his head, Shammael sat down heavily in the chair next to the bed and picked up one of Judeau's hands, pinching the skin on its back. "Can you feel this, boy?" Judeau nodded, flexing his fingers, and the Healer gave him a grunt of satisfaction before continuing his rambling, reaching for the blond man's other hand: 

"I've patched him up as much as I could, enough to keep him from dying right off, but a human would still be at least drifting in and out of consciousness… but that stunted little grunt… guess what he's doing?" Shammael paused again, letting Judeau reassure him that this hand worked as well. Scooting his chair over to the foot end of the bed, the Healer growled on: 

"He's raving on and on about getting his beard back – he even tried to keep me from healing him until I'd started on the remedy! And he keeps yakking about how 'pathetic' and 'frail' humans are… I swear, if he comes out to check on me, to make sure I've started on the remedy, I will tie him to the gods-cursed bed! I'll slip him a damn paralysing drug if I have to!" 

Grinning to herself, Samina nodded and leaned back against the wall. 

"That might not be such a bad idea…" She chuckled. 

"Move your feet," Shammael grunted to Judeau, who obediently wiggled his now-exposed toes. The blond man then politely tried to call the Healer's attention, 

"Shammael…" 

"Can you feel this?" the Healer interrupted him, poking the sole of his left foot. 

"Eh… yes… but, Shammael…" 

"How 'bout this?" 

"Yes, fine," the blond man answered, growing impatient. "But I need to know…" 

"This?" 

"Shammael! Listen to me!" The sternness of Judeau's voice startled even Samina, and a surprised silence settled over the room. Judeau made a brief grimace of pain from the effort of shouting, but locked the old Healer's eyes with a very serious gaze. "I need to know. Please. Who is hurt? Did anyone… are everyone alive?" 

Shammael frowned and nodded slowly. 

"The dwarf with the nasty attitude, Taskar or whatever, got himself pounded quite badly – He's the one I was talking about: the one who's doing a lot better than he should. The girl here got her arm smashed, but nothing more serious, and the other two are just fine. You're the one we've had reason to worry about, boy." Then the wrinkles in his leathery old face smoothed out and a slightly strained, awkward grin found its way onto his lips. "But now that it seems like you weren't too messed up, either, I can finally take a break. You're wearing this old man out, boy, getting pulped left and right… Can't I take my eyes off of you for one second?" 

Judeau had relaxed back against the wall when he'd heard that nobody had been more seriously injured than himself, and he smiled amiably at Shammael's weak attempt at a joke. But Samina couldn't help noticing that the blond man purposely avoided all eye contact. There was a shade of something else, something darker, underneath that easy smile of his, but she couldn't properly identify it. She frowned inwardly, but said nothing. 

Shammael slapped his big, rough hands down on his own knees and heaved an exhausted sigh, which was only slightly theatrical. 

"Well, then. Since both my beds are busy, I'm thinking that nobody would mind if I slept a little in one of your tents – then, tomorrow, I'll be able to patch you all up properly." 

He rose and turned, coming face to face with Samina, and the bounty hunter was honestly surprised to see a look of embarrassed regret on the Healer's face. He stopped and uncertainly scratched the back of his neck. 

"Of course we don't mind," Samina said, guessing that his hesitation was about using their tents without proper authorisation. "It's only fair for us to let you use our beds, when we are occupying yours." 

"Mh-yeah… thanks," he mumbled – somehow managing to make his voice sound harsh and grumpy, despite the look in his eyes. "Though… I'm… I'm sorry, girl, that I can't heal you right now. I'm all worn out, and bones are one of the absolutely hardest things to fix. You'll have to wait until tomorrow." 

"Oh… Well, that's no problem at all, I assure you." She smiled at him and patted the useless, splintered limb where it hung, tightly tied across her chest. "It's just a broken arm. The guys needed your help a lot more than I did, so I don't blame you for letting me wait." 

Shammael grunted and studied the bandage. 

"Does it hurt?" he asked, hesitantly. Samina's smile widened. 

"It's nothing I can't handle." 

The old Healer nodded, gave another slightly displeased grunt and walked away. Before he went out the door, he stopped again and turned back to them. 

"Drink plenty of that potion, you hear? It'll make my job so much easier in the morning." 

Samina tossed off a quick salute with her good hand, and Judeau nodded weakly. Seeming to be satisfied with that, the Healer departed. 

Samina retrieved her cup and sat down again, and the two humans drank in contemplative silence for a while, until the scar-faced woman turned back towards Judeau again, a small but serious frown on her face. 

"Okay, Judeau, there's one thing I just have to ask you… What were you thinking, back there?" 

He glanced up at her in confusion. "Huh?" 

"I mean… You almost got yourself killed, trying to save me. Just… why?" Not giving him a chance to speak, she continued, counting off the fingers on her good hand: "You know what they say: One time is no time; two times is a habit; three times, and you're in a rut. You're already up to 'habit', mister – even if you were very confused the first time. It counts." 

"Okay, hang on…" he interrupted, holding up a stalling hand. "Let me get this straight… you have a problem with me… saving you? Because… it seems like you've developed a habit of telling me not to do that…" 

She sighed and frowned in annoyance at him. "No. I don't have a problem with being saved. I'm having a problem with the way you keep recklessly risking your life. I'm beginning to worry about you… I mean, do you have a death wish or something?" 

He sent her a very clear-headed gaze. 

"No. Do you?" 

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" 

"'Don't save me'…?" 

She sighed again and leaned back in her chair. 

"Judeau, what I mean is: 'Don't save me – at the cost of _your own_ life.' If you want to parry for me, watch my back, or take my enemies down for me, that's fine. Just do not take a hit that was meant for me. If I am not fast enough, or too clumsy, or make some silly mistake, or in any other way am not good enough to defend myself – then I deserve to get hit! But if you are good enough to not only fend for yourself, but also notice and _intervene in_ my case, then you are far too good to lose – Especially in place of the one who messed up." She looked back at him. "You understand?" 

He regarded her with a very thoughtful expression on his face, tilting his head slightly to the side. 

"But when you're members of the same team, you're supposed to look out for each other, right?" 

"Sure." She nodded. "But you're also supposed to look out for yourself. You won't be much of help to anyone if you're dead, now, would you?" 

"But if you died," he said, still giving her that disconcertingly clear-headed look, "…That would be different?" 

Samina let out a frustrated huff. "But listen to me, will you? If I _mess up,_ then I deserve the consequences for that failure. My failure is not something that _you,_ or anyone else but _me,_ should pay for! My life is worth exactly as much as yours, but if I mess up, and you are good enough to intervene, your skills and your life would be the greater loss – it's all about economics! Let me try to make that even clearer: Don't. Die. For. A. Mistake. _I've._ Made." She leaned back again with a sigh and looked away. "Or just call it an honour thing if you will – Like the dwarves, I have always paid my own debts, and I've always paid for my own mistakes." After studying the contents of her cup for a moment, she silently added: "And I don't want to owe anyone anything. Especially not something as big as that." 

After a moment of silence, Judeau took another sip of his brew. 

"I understand," he said, then heaved a small, indifferent sigh. "If it makes you feel any better, the mistake back there was mine, anyway." 

She glanced over at him. "…What?" 

He met her eyes with one of his easy smiles, raising his cup in a small, light-hearted toast. 

"I miscalculated. I intended to push you out of the way, join you on the ground, and have Steelwing kill the minotaurs for us." He took another sip and gave a very slight and careful shrug. "Well… two out of three… but that beast was just a little bit too fast for my calculations. Monsters of that size are not supposed to be so agile." 

Another wave of relief slowly washed over her, gracefully wafting away any remaining discomfort and numbness, and Samina gladly let the feeling settle into a smile on her face. 

"Yes," she mused, relaxing back against the chair, "Minotaurs are exceptional creatures. We are lucky that there are so few of them, and that they keep so much to themselves – I wouldn't want to know what kind of havoc an army of those beasts would wreck on the world." She let out a small sigh of relief and toasted Judeau back. "Well, I must admit, it feels good to know that it wasn't my fault that you got hurt, after all." 

"Nope," he agreed, mock pride filling his voice. "I got hurt by my very own stupidity, all by myself." 

She couldn't help but laugh, and his smile widened. She held her cup out to him and he clanked his own against it. 

"I'll drink to that," she snickered. "To your health, fumblefoot!" 

"And yours, dwarfling." 

"We'll need it." 

At that point, Thirgynn stepped out of the adjoining room, followed by Taskkarr's harsh voice shouting something in dwarfish. The miracle-worker turned back towards the commanding voice and nodded patiently. 

"Yes, yes, I will ask him. Now lie back and let the healing herbs do their work. I will take it from here – trust me." 

Taskkarr made a long, displeased sound but gave no more arguments, and Thirgynn quietly shut the door again. 

"Ah," the miracle-worker said as he noticed the two humans, "It's good to see you awake, Mr Judeau. I understand that your injuries were quite serious." The dwarf strode over to the bed and gave Judeau an encouraging grin. "But you survived! Most impressive, for a human!" 

The scout raised an eyebrow and gave an uncertain, lopsided smile. 

"Gee, thanks…" Then his expression turned more serious, and his eyes narrowed as he studied the dwarf. "You're not…? I mean, I saw you take an axe in the… right in the neck…" 

"Oh, that." The miracle-worker made a dismissive gesture. "I feel it, but it's nothing, really. My Stoneskin spell sucked up most of the damage. Say, does any of you know where Mr Shammael went? I am supposed to help him get started on the remedy…" 

"Shammael is resting, Thirgynn," Samina said, giving the dwarf a very serious look. "Lay off him for a while, will you? He's all worn out – completely spent." 

Thirgynn crossed his thick arms over his chest and frowned sulkily. 

"Well, then he shouldn't have expended precious energy on healing those minotaurs, I say. Most unwise." 

"He's a Healer," Samina explained patiently, "he had no choice but to save them, too. It's his nature." 

"Well, it's a most unwise nature, then," Thirgynn stated matter-of-factly. 

"Okay, sure," Samina agreed with a shrug, "but he still can't get started on the remedy, you know. With everything that happened, we never managed to get our hands on those last Dusklilies…" 

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, didn't I?" The miracle-worker slapped a big hand against his bald head and then, with a frown of concentration on his face, began rummaging through the Healer's spare herb-bag that he'd been carrying over his shoulder the whole day – for safe-keeping. The dwarf's frown turned into a triumphant grin, and he withdrew his big hand from the bag holding a sparse bouquet of long, white-stemmed, pale purplish-blue flowers. 

"While you were all busy with building the stretcher and Taskkarr was arguing with the Healer about the minotaurs, I took the opportunity to pick them!" 

Samina blinked at the beautiful, frail-looking flowers in Thirgynn's hand, and then at the dwarf, himself. 

"Well," she said, a wide grin breaking out on her face, "I should have known… trust a dwarf to think practically!" 

"No, no." Thirgynn shook an admonishing finger at the bounty hunter. "Trust a _miracle-worker_ to think practically. After all, even the best of dwarven warriors may forget themselves in the heat of battle, but a miracle-worker must always keep an alert mind." 

~  
Judeau smiled and chatted with the woman and the dwarf for surely an hour or so, until Samina remarked that he looked tired and that they should probably let him rest. They had helped him lay down again and gone outside to, as Samina had put it, 'Kill some food'. 

He was tired. Really tired – all he wanted to do was to go asleep and not have to think for a while, but for as long as it took for the searing pain in his ribs to fade, he kept seeing Samina's bound arm, and the mean-looking, blackish-blue bruise in the back of Thirgynn's neck, before his eyes. 

_Because of me._

His left hand clenched around the demonic brand. 

_I shouldn't have gone with them._

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he pushed the unwelcome thoughts away, retreating into a small sphere of calm and silence. Right now he needed rest – all else could wait until later. 

A faint whisper of the persistent thoughts reached him inside his concentration, bringing a small frown to his face: 

_My fault. _

_I know what I have to do._

-*--*-

Next chapter is in the making. As always, please review! I want to hear what people think!

Reviewer Responses:

Merina: Sorry about the cliffhanger… again. ^_^; And thank you!

Azrael: *Blushblush* Thank you very much for your support and well thought-out comments! Yes – I didn't throw the Void in just for kicks… ;) There'll be more, don't worry.

Harley Quinn: I have now updated, call off your… whatever you're planning on threatening me with. Hopefully cuddly Cornish Rex kittens… er… I couldn't imagine a more horrible fate than being cuddled to death by purring kittens. Yeah.

Berzerkerprime: *grins* well, that's good to know, then… I'm not the only evil person around. ^_^ Thank you!

Thor: Thanks for reviewing, squirt. Don't grow any taller.

Peer: Thank you for your funny review and for the pictures. They reminded me again of why I really, really have to write – and FINISH – this fic. *sniff, sobs* *whimpers* Judeau…

nada: Thank you for understanding! ;) and for your patience… ^_^;

Gorgonzola: My very patient dwarf-supporter… hrm. ;D As always, thank you for all the laughs, and for your help!

methodic madness: Yay, I've hooked another one! …er… I mean, thank you for enjoying my fic and sharing your thoughts on it. I do like Gatts, too – he's my all-time favourite anime hero… it's just that HIS story is being written so EXCEPTIONALLY well that I… really don't WANT to write any fanfic on him. I'd only mess up a great story, y'know…? ^_^;


	13. Like a Thief

Cliffhangers are evil… but I sure get interesting reactions out of them. ) To compensate a little, I'm not going to let this Author's Note drag out. Please enjoy this chapter, and tell me what you think of it!

Lucky number thirteen….

-*--*-

Chapter thirteen: Like a thief...

Judeau stared out through the tiny sliver of window that he could see from his prone position. The small moon had moved almost all the way across it, and was now casting its faint glow into only one of his eyes. That hazy light was probably dividing his face neatly down the middle, right about now. 

This meant, if he remembered correctly, that there was only about one hour left until midnight. 

_You're wasting time._

A slight frown creased his brow at the unwelcome thought. He didn't want to think right now, but the insistent little voice kept sneaking into the meditative emptiness of his mind. 

_The curse-remedy will be finished in the morning,_ it said. _You're almost healed. Samina and Steelwing will soon wake up. It has to be now._

A small sigh escaped him and his frown deepened, as more unwelcome thoughts began slipping into focus. 

_…I just wanted to be a part of something great… _

_…Now, I can't be a part of anything, anymore. _

_…Griffith…_

His left hand slowly tightened into a hard fist, but he still did not move from his position, nor did he take his eyes away from the waning sliver of moon in the window. 

Griffith might have failed to kill him, that day, but he sure had succeeded in taking his life away. Judeau finally closed his eyes and allowed the thoughts and the memories to flood in on him. 

_Do you know what was so great about being a Hawk, Griffith?_ The string of thought manifested itself like a rope, a lifeline through all the turbulent, desperate, hopeless feelings inside of him. He grabbed on to it and let it carry him away to wherever it was going. 

_It was you, you know. Not you as a person, a commander or a friend, but your presence – the way you spoke, walked, carried yourself… It compelled a kind of belief. _

_Yes, of course you knew. Looking back, it seems obvious to me now that you did. Very clever, very calculated – just like everything else about you. Just another useful tool, to keep all your other useful tools in check. _

_And it worked so well, didn't it? Oh, Griffith… you gave us something so much more precious than a soldier's pay and a place to sleep… Somehow, you could make us all believe that we could be more than what we were born to be. In your presence, watching you, listening to your words, even the lowest of serfs could lift his head and dare to hope… dare to reach for his dream… dare to believe in himself and his own ability to change his fate. _

_And that was why we were undefeated. You knew so well, Griffith, that though a man might die for a Cause, nothing will make him fight with such fierceness and unyielding dedication as a chance to realise his own dream… and to defend his feeling of self-worth. We simply could not afford to lose. _

_Through you, we all fought for ourselves. Through you, we all fought for our own, personal goals, because you made us… no, you _let_ us all believe, that if we just helped you gain your kingdom, your grand dream, we would be able to fulfil our own. _

_And me… I just wanted to be a part of something great. I just wanted to be someone that someone like you could appreciate. I fought with the dream in my heart that once everything was said and done, once there would finally be peace after over a century of warfare, and once you had finally gained your kingdom, I would be there. Somewhere around you – Hell, I would settle for the far back of a crowded ballroom, as long as I could just see what you had accomplished and… and feel that in some way, no matter how small, I was a part of it. _

_I wanted, just once in my life, to feel that I was a part of something truly extraordinary._

Judeau heaved a sigh that made his ribs ache dully, and opened his eyes again, gazing up at the pale moon-sliver in the window. 

_How vain of me._

The pale, shimmering disc reminded him of Griffith in so many ways. Distant to the point of unreachable, somehow otherworldly and supreme in its lofty position – yet casting a light down over everything and everyone within its sight, that changed the entire world in the way it illuminated the darkness and lent every detail a soft, surreal glow. 

_You were the light that we all gathered around, the roaring bonfire to which we brought our own little torches, thinking they might one day burn as brightly as your grand dream, if they only got the chance. _

_And you welcomed us all, and gladly let us put our flames to yours, until nothing remained of them but the illusion – That image that sticks to your eye and won't go away for a long while after the original flame has been put out. Our dreams only served to feed yours, and we wanted so badly to believe what we saw in you that we blinded ourselves to that fact. Our dreams became your dream, just as easy as that. _

_I really thought there was a place for me in your dream. So did Caska, and Rickert, and Corkus, and Pippin. So did we all. We bled and fought and died, we lost friends and comrades and we even lost ourselves, sometimes, but we went on – always on – to the next battlefield and the next victory, and the next, and the next… and all the while, you let us believe that we were a part of something extraordinary and incredible, something that would change the world and our places in it forever. You let us believe that everything we did for you made a difference – made us part of something bigger than ourselves. You let us believe that we had a value, a right to live, a right to strive for a brighter future for ourselves… right up until the end, when you proved us all wrong. _

_Was it so, Griffith, that the only real value we ever held in your eyes was how useful we could be to you? To your dream? _

_That great, beautiful, magnificent dream was never really meant for us common thugs, was it? It was yours, exclusively… _

_…If even that. _

_I think I see now, Griffith, something I hadn't thought about before… That day, in that horrid place, you sacrificed _everything,_ didn't you? Not only us, but also yourself… after all, _you_ weren't of any further use to your dream, either… _

_I was so blind, so helplessly convinced by what I wanted to see in you, that I could never accept what I really saw… or think I saw… maybe even long before things started to go wrong… _

_…That your dream was so great, it consumed you, too._

Judeau slowly, thoughtfully brought his hands up over his chest and absently traced the demonic brand with his fingertips. 

_But whether I'm right or wrong about that, I'll never know, will I? And it doesn't matter, anyway. I can never forgive you for what you did, even if it claimed you too, in the end – even if maybe we brought it on ourselves by blinding ourselves… by wanting so desperately to believe in you. _

_It doesn't matter. They deserved better, Griffith. They deserved better than to be disposed of like so much garbage. After everything they did for you – after everything they won for you. _

_Their dreams… _our_ dreams might not have been as grand and all-consuming as yours, but they were ours. With what right did you take them all away? _

_With what right did you kill them? _

_I risked my life to save you, you know. Don't I feel stupid now._

His fingers continued their absent-minded exploration up his arm, tracing the jagged, puckered lines of his scars. 

_I still wish that I could have saved you, Griffith. I just don't think there was anything I could have done, anymore. Even if we had somehow been able to come for you sooner, while you wasted away in that tower, or in greater numbers, I still think that things would have turned out the way they did – because none of us could have done anything to save you from yourself._

A sharp stab of grief shot through his chest and his fingers convulsively tightened around his arm, his left hand balling up into a hard fist. 

_I couldn't save you. _

_I couldn't save my friends. _

_I couldn't save Caska._

Pulling in a deep, ragged breath, he tried to focus on breathing slowly, barley noticing how his fingernails dug into his scarred skin. 

_I couldn't even save myself._

He finally managed to push the sharpest edge of the pain away and got himself back under control, angrily blinking the few, traitorous tears away and carefully relaxing his grip. He glared up at the cool, waning moon-sliver in the window. 

_Just so you know, Griffith,_ he thought, feeling that smouldering anger burn away the worst of the remaining grief, _I'm never going to forgive myself for that, so why should I ever forgive you?_

It was high time to start moving now, if he wasn't going to be discovered. Judeau sat up with a last, angry sniff and began unwrapping the bandage around his chest. 

_You took my past, my love, my dreams and my life away, Griffith. I'll see you in hell – If they'll let you in._

Then he decisively pushed the hurt and the anger away again and forced his mind to focus on the task at hand. 

He left the bandages neatly folded on the bed and got dressed as stealthily as he could. Sure, he was quite certain now that dwarves had a really bad sense of hearing, but the door to the other room was open just a crack, and both Taskkarr and Thirgynn were sleeping in there. He could hear Taskkarr's hoarse snoring from here, and somewhere in the background, Thirgynn's only slightly quieter breaths. They both sounded like they were fast asleep, but it was always better not to take any chances. 

Before he slipped his boots on, he walked over to the Healer's table and searched a little through the different bags and small, wooden boxes. Finding the pouch he was looking for, he guiltily emptied it of some of its contents and placed it in his pocket, then he took his armour under his arm, along with the saddlebag that contained his other meagre belongings, put the helmet on his head and quietly pushed the door open. Some of the pale moonlight fell in through the crack, painting a strip of the floor with a silver blue glow. 

Shammael's outside door had a creak to it, he remembered, and he managed to stop its swing right before it hit the treacherous angle. Waiting in the shadows just inside the door, Judeau strained his ears to the limits of their usefulness, but heard nothing outside except the gentle rustling of wind through heavy branches and the occasional, distant call of some night-active woodland creature. He surreptitiously leaned out and peered towards the silent tents at the far end of the cabin, but nothing seemed to stir over there. 

The sky was perfectly clear, and though the big moon was only visible as a distant, hazy light beyond the trees to the east, the small one stood proudly in the middle of the sky and provided more than enough light to see by. At least it felt that way to Judeau after coming out from the Healer's dark house, and he felt terribly exposed. 

Keeping a watchful eye on the tents, Judeau pushed the door closed as slowly as he had opened it. It swung shut with a very soft 'thump', and Judeau's heart almost jumped – but he remained perfectly still, listening intently for any sound that was not his own racing heartbeats. Only when he was sure that the silence and his own wariness had made the sound of the door seem louder than it really was, and that nobody seemed to be coming to check up on it, did he slowly exhale and allow himself to relax a little. 

_So far, so good._

Treading as softly as only years of scout practise could teach, Judeau made his way out of the revealing moonlight and in between the shadows of the trees. 

*  
Acting purely on scout instinct, he made a slight curve in his course and came up on the forest-glade-turned-pasture from the side. As he silently approached the rickety fence, he saw Kariss' huge, white, ghost-like shape rise from its sleeping spot and make its way over to him, snuffling loudly and making odd, low-key coughing noises. 

"Hey there, boy," he whispered and held his hand out over the fence so the beast would recognise him. Only when Kariss' wet nose pressed against his palm did Judeau see the other two murvels. They were standing where they had been sleeping next to Kariss, Thirgynn's grey beast carefully snuffling at the air, and Taskkarr's black steed (which was almost invisible against the dark background of the forest) standing perfectly still, watching him with a steady, slightly threatening air to it. He waved at them to approach, as he'd seen the dwarves do during their journey here. 

"Hey to you, too. Come here. Um… _Zshyk._" 

Kariss seemed to recognise him and butted his hand lightly, making small noises in the back of its mighty throat. Thirgynn's grey steed cocked its head to the side at the not-very-perfect dwarven command, but approached slowly, curiously. The black beast remained stock still where it stood, but made no more threatening moves as Judeau carefully climbed over the fence. 

He let the grey beast sniff his hand as well, scratching the rumble-purring Kariss' head with the other, mumbling quiet, calming nonsense-words to the both of them. 

"…And guess what I've got for you guys!" 

From his pocket, he fished out three hazelnuts. He didn't like the thought of taking _anything_ from the old Healer, but if he was going to do what had to be done, he would need something that would placate the murvelbeasts and make them responsive to him – or they might very well get in his way. And hazelnuts should be easy enough for Shammael to replace. 

At the sight of the hazelnuts, Kariss immediately stopped purring, instead beginning to whimper eagerly and pacing its heavy paws against the ground. Thirgynn's beast stretched its neck up, snuffling incessantly at the treat, and Taskkarr's dark murvel finally began to move towards them – at first cautiously, but then it seemed to catch a whiff of the nuts, and hurried its plodding. Judeau made sure that each of the beasts got one hazelnut, and scratched their shaggy heads – eliciting a short, quiet purr even from the black one. 

"Good, good… that was good, wasn't it? Now…" He snapped his fingers and they all looked up at him, expectantly. He made a quick, decisive downwards push with the palm of his hand, and put as much command into his voice as he dared without raising its volume too much: 

"_Gzu-hokk!_" 

They looked at him. He remained still, staring down at them with a stern, serious frown on his face. Just as he thought that they'd called his bluff, Kariss and the grey murvel slowly, hesitantly began to lie down, keeping their dark eyes on his face. He carefully kept his 'dwarf mask' in place, but gave them a slow, brief nod of approval and turned an expectant scowl on the black beast. 

The beast remained stubbornly standing, staring up at Judeau with eyes that were indistinguishable in the black fur. Judeau's scowl deepened further, and he began slowly, purposefully turning towards the beast, raising his hand above his head… 

…And slowly, reluctantly, the black beast lowered its head and its great bulk to the ground, giving up a deep, defeated sigh. Judeau mentally exhaled. If his bluff had worked as it should, the beasts would stay low and quiet, and wouldn't rise up again until someone commanded them to. He patted each shaggy head once more and told them they'd done good, and then he walked over to the horses. 

Steelwing's slender elfhorse sped over to the other end of the pasture when he approached, tossing its head defiantly and keeping a watchful eye on him – but, thankfully, didn't make any noise. In fact, aside from a few, strange-sounding huffs, Judeau had never heard it make one. 

Well, at least it would stay out of his way. 

Blaise and Sock acknowledged his presence with a tail-flip and a quiet huff respectively, and paid him no more attention, but Packer recognised him immediately and greeted him with a soft, friendly headbutt in the chest, readily allowing Judeau to lead it out of the pasture and put it in reins. He'd just returned from the tiny tackle-shed with Packer's saddle and hung it over the horse's back, when a voice from behind almost caused him to jump out of his skin. 

"Where do you think you're going in the middle of the night," it said calmly, and he swivelled around to face it, "…with _my_ horse?" 

From out of the deep shadows underneath a mighty fir tree stepped Samina. In the all-black outfit that she nearly always wore, it looked for a moment as though only her pale, disembodied face came floating out into the moonlight – but as soon as the worst of the adrenaline-rush had worn off, Judeau could see her outline against the slightly darker background. 

"Sam-Samina… how… how did you…?" 

She heaved a small sigh and walked up to him, fixing him with a somewhat weary look. 

"Let's just say I had a hunch. You've been brooding, Judeau. You were very good at hiding it, but not always… and when you woke up after the minotaur-attack, you seemed like you had made some sort of decision, so…" She looked away from him and patted Packer's neck gently. "…Since you didn't talk about it, I was afraid that it would come to something like this. I've been standing watch here, at night, just in case…" 

Samina frowned and heaved another light, uncertain sigh. Then she looked back at him, her eyes gently questioning. 

"What is it, Judeau? Is it me and the Void? Is it Steelwing and his threat? Is it the dwarves?" She took a hesitant hold of Packer's saddle and shook her head slightly. "If it is, then I can understand, just… please, Judeau, don't leave without an explanation. I think I can ask for at least that much." 

He sighed and looked away from her. 

"It's not you, Samina," he murmured quietly. "It's not any of you. Believe me, if I had a…" He interrupted himself and rubbed his lips awkwardly. He had so hoped that he wouldn't have to confront anyone, and now he didn't really know what to say. Leaning back against Packer and turning his side on Samina, he studied the newly fallen leaf at his feet – one of the first of the season – and tried a different approach: 

"Shammael said it, once: I am a people-person. More exactly, he said that I belong in the cities where people mill about… and he was right. I have always had an easy time making friends, and that's because… I need them. It's that simple. The more friends I have around me, the happier I am – and that includes you guys. I've really enjoyed my time with you – You're good people, if maybe a little bit on the weird side, but good people nonetheless – and hey…" He looked over at Samina's mildly confused face and smiled. "What's a few death threats between friends?" She uncertainly smiled back at him, and he looked away again, gazing off at the distant treetops and carefully holding onto the smile. 

"I have never been really alone before, just by myself, but there's got to be a first time for everything. I think it's time I gave it a shot. Grew some backbone, you know. Learned to stand on my own." 

"Huh." Samina didn't sound at all convinced. "If that's all, then why are you sneaking away like a thief in the night, jumping like a child caught in the act of pick-pocketing at the sound of my voice?" 

He looked down at the ground again and sheepishly rubbed his nose. "I didn't think you would let me leave." 

In the short silence that followed, Judeau saw Samina change position out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to relax a little, putting more of her weight on one foot and leaning slightly against Packer. She turned her face to gaze over the small horse's back, out at the moonlit pasture, and sighed again. 

"If I had any sense in me at all, I wouldn't. And I don't understand why you would want to. Here, with Mr Shammael, you're safe… but going away on your own, with that rune on your hand… it's basically the same as _suicide._" 

She looked back at him. He didn't move, nor speak, and he couldn't keep the smile on his face. He heard the creak of leather as her fingers tightened their hold on the saddle behind him, and an unmistakably hard edge had crept into her quiet voice when she spoke again: 

"Suicide is the coward's way out, Judeau." 

"I want to live." The words had almost spoken themselves, and it was as if – by making themselves heard – they had broken some kind of dam inside of him, making more words, quiet but clipped and angry, come over his lips before he'd really gotten a chance to think them through: 

"I don't want to die, I want to live. I have a right to. But as long as I have this damned curse on me, I can't. I can't go to a city, because I will bring the demons and the undead down on it and its people. I can't stay here with Shammael, because his Healer's aura and my Brand are cancelling each other out, just like Thirgynn said, and that's keeping me safe, yes, but it's making Shammael _sick…_ and it's taken away the only real protection he's got against the minotaurs and the trolls and whatever other dangerous beasts lurk around in this damned forest. That's why the minotaurs attacked us: 'Taurs can feel the Healer, but taurs don't feel you'. It was because of my presence there, with you, that you and Taskkarr and Thirgynn got hurt. Because of me. Because of my Brand. And that's why I have to go. I'm going to try to find a way to remove this curse, and…" 

He finally caught up with himself and stopped, but realised with a sigh that he'd already said everything else. He might as well finish the sentence, too. 

"…And maybe find a way to go back." 

Samina's voice was surprisingly calm and gentle. "Back? To where?" 

He turned his head to look at her. "Back to my world. There's…" He shut his mouth and straightened up, turning to Packer – But when he reached in under the small horse to get the saddle-girth, he finished that sentence too, for some reason. 

"There's someone I want to find." 

~  
Samina watched Judeau begin to strap the girth in place, but she didn't let go of her hold on the saddle. He was very determined, there was no doubt about that, but she couldn't let him go through with this. She had decided that much after only a short internal debate in the shadow of the fir. She just didn't know what she could possibly do to stop him. 

At least he seemed to respond to calm reasonability. She decided to see what else she might learn, as long as it lasted. 

"Caska…?" she prodded, and he immediately froze and turned his head towards her so fast that his ponytail whipped around his neck. 

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked quietly. She tried a lopsided little smile. 

"You've been saying it a few times… when you were confused." This was an interesting reaction. There was something very strong going on inside him – there had to be, for him to be doing something this desperate – and it was linked to this, somehow. Maybe if she could find out just what it was, she could find a way to convince him to stay. She dared to prod just a little deeper, turning her voice softer, gentler, "You really loved her, didn't you?" 

He held her with his gaze, and she could almost see his internal conflict as a small wrinkle slowly became visible between his eyebrows. Then he looked away and let out a short breath. 

"Yes." He remained still, and Samina remained quiet, anticipating the words that had been left unsaid in that statement. Her silence was soon rewarded as Judeau, still facing away from her, began speaking very quietly, as if to himself: 

"I still do. And I'm not going to lie and say that I wouldn't look for her if I found a way to get back there, because I would… but I actually wasn't thinking about her…" 

Samina nodded absently to herself. 

"The man who betrayed you, then," she whispered. "Griffith." 

He turned back towards her with a very sober and quite annoyed frown on his face, and leaned one elbow against Packer. 

"What else have I been talking about when I wasn't paying attention?" he asked irritably. 

_Bull's eye._ She gave him that lopsided little smile again, only slightly more genuine, and shook her head reassuringly. 

"Nothing much coherent, don't worry. I'm just smart enough to put two and two together, sometimes." 

He made a short "Hm," -sound and turned back to the small horse again. 

"I hope you will forgive me for taking Packer with me, Samina," he said. "It's just that everything goes a lot faster on horseback, and… I will probably have to outrun some really nasty things. I'll be needing him." 

And that was it – the opening was gone. She'd blown it by that one, thoughtless guess. She couldn't keep prodding him any more now, without insulting him and making him even more defensive. 

Oh well, she'd just have to find a way to make him see reason, anyway. She leaned more heavily onto Packer, putting her arm right across the saddle. 

"But Judeau," she said softly, as reasonably as she possibly could, and almost whispering since she was so close to him now, "All of this… we can help you. We've already taken care of one curse, after all, and your chances will be so much better with us." He looked up at her and she saw the courteous refusal in his eyes, so she didn't give him the opportunity to speak. 

"Listen," she quickly continued, "I've never been very religious or anything, but… with all that's happened since we met you in the Great City, I have to admit that I'm almost beginning to believe in destiny. Too many coincidences: We have just managed to remove an enormously powerful curse, and you happened to have the final key to our complete restoration. Then it turns out that you, yourself, have an enormously powerful curse on you – and one that attracts demons and the undead, at that! Just the sort of unholy creatures that our group is specialised in taking care of! Seriously, with Steelwing's blades, Taskkarr's expertise, Thirgynn's magic, my immunity and your own skills, there is no doubt in my mind that we'd be able to handle anything that might come after us." She held his gaze and pleaded quietly with him, "Please, Judeau, don't throw your life away. Stay with the team. Let us help you. We want to." 

He hesitated for a short moment, raising one eyebrow in question. 

"Can you really speak for the whole team like that?" 

She nodded solemnly. "In this case, I know I can. Trust me, we'll gladly help you out of this mess." 

He didn't look away from her, and the silence dragged out between them. Then he gently shook his head. 

"Believe me, Samina, there was a time, not too long ago, when I would not have hesitated to use you and your team. Everything you're saying makes perfect sense, and I… do know… that my chances alone are pretty damn slim. I just can't let you do that. I just can't risk, or let you risk all of your lives on a quest that only I can benefit from in the end. I don't want to be that kind of person." As he'd spoken, his eyes had grown harder, his body tenser, and Samina knew that she'd finally found the core of his trouble. But he composed himself again, and all the anger and hurt that she had seen him radiate sank back and disappeared, like the spikes on a sheathed porcupine. In a matter of heartbeats, his eyes were gentle once again. Gentle, and regretful. 

"I hope you can understand." 

She couldn't quite keep the sadness out of her voice when she quietly whispered back: 

"Some day, I wish you'll tell me the whole story… of what happened to you." 

Judeau sighed and finally looked away from her. "Maybe. Ask me again if we ever should meet." He took a hold of her arm and politely tried to pull it off of the saddle. "Let me leave now, Samina." 

She did not let go. "No, Judeau! Come on, listen to me: You won't be _using_ us, we volunteer! We want to do this – Taskkarr hunts demons for a living, and Steelwing's life mission is to destroy evil. Trust me, you won't be the only one to benefit from this quest!" 

To her great surprise, his hand left her arm and gently landed on her hand. His fingers even lightly, reassuringly caressed hers. She tried not to let her surprise show as she looked up into his face. 

And she hadn't noticed just how close it was to hers, before. 

He gave her a small, confident smile that lifted the corners of his eyes and somehow made them come alive. There was that spark in them again – that elusive something that she just couldn't peg. 

"I'm sorry, Samina," he said. "I have thought long and hard about this, and it's not an easy decision – believe me… but I know I'm doing the right thing. I have made up my mind, and there's nothing you can do or say that will make me change it. I'm sorry." 

For some reason, she couldn't think of a single thing to say. She barely felt her fingers go lax, but she did feel his warm hand tightening around hers and beginning to lift it away. 

But the moment was abruptly interrupted when a deep, rumbling voice spoke behind them: 

"Maybe she can't," it said sternly, "but I sure can." 

They turned around to find Taskkarr standing in the moonlight, with both Thirgynn and Steelwing standing behind him. The elf's eyes glowed dimly green in the deep shadow under his helmet, and both Thirgynn and Taskkarr were frowning. 

The short, sturdy demon-hunter took a few more steps forward and resolutely crossed his arms over his broad chest, giving Judeau a very serious scowl. 

"What is it that you want, manling? A chain around your neck? 'Cause I'll bloody well make you one, if you force me to." 

Samina blinked. "Taskkarr? How long have you been awake?" 

"Since Steelwing kicked me," the dwarf grumbled, sending the tall crusader a withering glare, which was duly ignored – Then Taskkarr snapped his gaze back at Judeau again. 

"As a member of the demon-hunters' guild and by the oaths I have sworn as a dwarven demon bane, there is no way in Demonicum that I could ever let you go off on your own. Not as long as you have that rune on your hand. You are far too dangerous to be let loose in the world without supervision." He raised one non-existent eyebrow and pointed at himself for further emphasis. "_My_ supervision." 

Judeau blinked twice and opened his mouth as if to object, but Taskkarr did not give him a chance to speak. 

"In other words, should you at any point try to leave this team, I would have to hunt you down and restrain you. And sure…" Taskkarr's voice became lighter for a moment and he nodded agreeably. "…You could run. You could hide. But I happen to know one of the best human bounty-hunters on this part of the continent, and I would not hesitate to pay her enough to hunt you to the ends of the world." 

~  
Surprised and stunned, Judeau glanced over at Samina. For a brief moment she blankly looked back at him, but then something lit up in her eyes and she leaned back against Packer with a smug little smile. 

"Well," she murmured, stroking her chin thoughtfully, "It's true that it's my job to find people who don't want to be found… and to be honest, I most often do find them… and for a friend like Taskkarr, I would put my very best effort into it." She straightened up and gave him a grin so feline that he could almost see the fangs, before calmly walking over to stand beside Steelwing. 

"But if you feel up to taking me and an ardent demon-hunter on, go ahead and leave." She made a small, generous gesture with one hand. "I'll even give you a few hours head start." 

He looked between her grinning face and Taskkarr's scowl. 

"But… listen, I…" 

"Mr Judeau," Steelwing's impeccably calm voice interrupted him. "As a Crusader, I must insist on staying close to you." The tall elf stepped closer to him and pointed with one long, slim finger at Judeau's left hand. "The magic in that rune might be classified as a curse, but for a Crusader such as me, it is indeed more of a blessing." He took one more step forward, so Judeau could see the darkened parts of his very serious, yet otherwise expressionless face. Steelwing's voice lowered just a little but sharpened nonetheless: 

"The demons and the undead will seek you out, so I will not have to find them. Do you know what this means? _I_ can choose the battlefield, instead of constantly having to adapt to theirs." The green glow in his eyes almost seemed to intensify for a brief moment. "It is a _great_ advantage, and I cannot let it pass." 

Behind Steelwing, Taskkarr nodded reluctantly. "Yes, well… that, too." 

Looking between the four of them, Judeau could see nothing but determination in their faces. He felt his lower lip begin to twitch in a peculiar way, and before he knew it, he was laughing. Real laughter, straight from the abdomen, like he hadn't laughed since the reappearance of the brand, over a week ago. 

They all looked at him with varying degrees of puzzlement, and he managed to contain his mirth again, chuckling: 

"You're just not going to let me get away, are you?" 

"Damn right we aren't!" Taskkarr rumbled. "I thought I made that perfectly clear!" 

Samina smiled and walked back to his side, patting his shoulder in mock compassion. "I'm afraid you're not getting rid of us that easily." 

Judeau smiled, the laughter still bubbling within him. He'd never thought that being denied to go through with such a carefully plotted plan could feel so good. He shrugged and heaved a small, theatrical sigh. 

"Ah, well. Since you leave me with no choice whatsoever, I guess I'll just have to suffer you." 

Taskkarr grunted something in dwarfish that made Thirgynn chuckle, and turned back towards the cabin. 

"Are we just about finished here, yet? Some of us have to sleep at night, you know." 

~  
Walking back towards Shammael's cabin, Samina fell in behind Judeau. He made a joke about how, if she wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to suddenly dash off into the forest, she could just ask Taskkarr to make a leash for him. She smiled, not so much at the joke itself, as at the obvious happiness and relief in his demeanour. The life and liveliness that had been missing in him for the past week or so had returned again, and it felt good to see. 

_You were more right than you think, Judeau, when you said that you need friends around you in order to be happy._

Her hand twitched a little, and for a brief moment she thought she could feel the warmth of his hand against her skin again. She frowned. Just what had happened back there, anyway? 

He had caught her by surprise. She'd expected him to hesitate, or argue, or maybe get mad at her, but… She sent the blond ponytail in front of her an irritated look and huffed quietly. _Why won't you stick to the script so I know what to expect from you? …Hopping unpredictable man…_

-*--*-

I don't have to remind you, do I? Reviews, opinions, criticisms are greatly welcome.

RR:

Azrael: Wow, you were fast! ;) Thank you for your eloquent review, I especially appreciate your thoughts on story pacing. If you ever find anything lacking in my story, I would be most interested in hearing your opinion.

Merina: ^_^ I'm working as fast as I can, you know… *moves Judeau-Muse out of Merina's immediate range* Don't hurt him, I'm the one writing the story. *sweatdrops*

Gorgonzola69: You the Cheese, man! Thank you for your input!

lizalou42: Thank you. *bows* I'm not going anywhere. ^_^ "Angst! Yay!"? Hm... Then I hope you liked this chapter. ;)

Stargazer Nataku: Thank you very much, and welcome back. :)

Berzerkerprime: Obsession is good. Stick with it. ;) And thank you, as always.

nada: "*hint, hint*"? Now, do you really think that I would be so evil as to leave THAT just hanging in the air? …Hee, hee… maybe next time…

Peer: Well, now you know! …But where do they go from here…? *cue creepy music*

sailorgaav: *bows* Thank you! If you see anything off, don't hesitate to criticise me! Please keep enjoying! ^_^

PatrickMurray: Thank you. I try my best.

Kara the Half Wolf: Ummm… thank you? You know, if you want to share, you're more than welcome to draw some fanart or write a fanfic. Us Judeau-fans must stick together to support our lovely Muse! And no, I am NOT going to stop writing this story, don't worry.

loki077: *bows deeply* Thank you very much for those kind words. I know that I am writing a really avant-garde fanfic, here, and sometimes I even wonder if it's right of me to keep it on FF.net, seeing how original it is… but at the same time, it's a story I would like to share. I'm glad and surprised that so many actually seems to be so accepting of it. ^_^ (More than I dared to hope for!)


	14. Where Do We Go From Here?

I'm so sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter out. I have my reasons, but I won't whine about them here. Enjoy this long chapter! 

-*--*-

  


Chapter fourteen: Where do we go from here?

  
The next day somehow managed to dawn with a thick, grey overcast, and Shammael made them construct an improvisational canopy behind his cabin. Under this he placed his wooden bathing-tub and proceeded to mix the various ingredients for the curse-remedy therein. 

Only about half an hour after he had begun this lengthy task, the drizzle started – pouring hopelessly and endlessly down over the heads of the other four, who tried their best to keep under the canopy without getting in the Healer's way. Then, it turned out that not only was the curse-remedy a kind of oil, in which the subjects would have to submerge themselves completely – it also stunk to high heaven. As Shammael finally added the Dusklily extract, Samina was very happy that she could flee the scene. 

Followed by twin strings of harsh and elaborate-sounding dwarven swearwords, she hurried around Shammael's cabin, keeping both nose and mouth carefully covered until the door was securely closed behind her.

Judeau looked up from his seat by the fire and grinned at her expression.

"What?" he asked.

She screwed her face up further and shuddered, without having to exaggerate at all.

"Pe-yewww! Holy crap on a stick, but that stuff _reeks!_" She waved her hand around as if trying to expel the mere memory of the horrible stench, and walked over to the fire. When she sat down, Judeau leaned towards her and sniffed comically at the air.

"Well," he surmised, leaning back again and still smiling, "It didn't stick to you."

She gave him a very serious look and scooted closer to the warm flames. "Be grateful. I'm too hopping wet for any smell to stick to me."

"As far as I recall, nobody forced you to go out there."

She muttered a half-hearted "Shut up," as she pulled her sodden boots and jacket off. "I was being supportive."

He handed her a gently steaming cup of Shammael's harmless herbal tea, nodding indulgently.

"I'm sure it's appreciated."

"Thank you." She gave him a smile over the top of the cup. "Nah, probably not. Useless bunch of ingrates they are, those non-humans."

He chuckled, and they sat for a while in silence, watching the flames. Samina felt the warmth of the tea slowly seep through the sides of the cup and into her cold, stiff fingers, sending small shivers of contentment through her body. She took a sip and ignored the sting of burn against her tongue, feeling the hot tea travel all the way down into her stomach and begin to warm her up from within.

She closed her eyes and heaved a small, contented sigh. After only a short while in the warmth of the fire, her hair had already almost stopped dripping.

The soothing effect of the fire and the hot tea brought her the slow realisation that she hadn't gotten three consecutive hours of sleep in days – having opted instead to steal what few, short naps she could during the day, so that she could keep watch at the pasture through the night – and she now felt quite reasonably tired and mushy.

She wished that she had thought of bringing the chair over to the fire, so she could just have leaned back and dozed off for a while. After all, Shammael had said that it would take some time yet to finish his work, so the dwarves wouldn't be showing up anytime soon, loudly venting their opinions on foul-smelling herbs – no, _weeds_ – and slow-working Healers.

Of course, the shaggy hearthrug would have done quite fine to curl up on… if only Judeau hadn't been occupying half of it. She stifled a sigh, then a yawn, and leaned her chin against one knee, trying to make herself as comfortable as she could where she sat.

Her mind had just begun to drift off when a quiet murmur momentarily called her back to the world of the waking:

"Still fresh…"

Samina glanced over at Judeau. The warmth of the hearth had made him roll his sleeves up to his elbows, and he was now thoughtfully tracing the red, horribly jagged scars on his right arm with the tips of his fingers. His face held a small, sad frown, and he didn't seem to be aware that he had said those two words out loud.

"I've noticed," Samina mumbled softly, before her drowsy mind could stop her. Judeau sent her a quick, sharp glance that confirmed, to her embarrassment, that neither of them had been talking about his physical scars. She quickly looked away and fought off an urge to guiltily clear her throat.

She heard him let out a light puff of breath and lean back a little, but when he spoke again his voice was as clear and calm as always:

"So, where do we go from here?"

Samina glanced back over at him. He was pulling his sleeves down, hiding the scars away again, and the frown on his face had vanished without a trace.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, meeting her gaze with one of his easy smiles, "Since you're not letting me fix my own problem by myself, I'm thinking that you guys might have a better plan. So, what do we do, or where do we go to get this curse off of me? Is there someone we can ask, or something? Will Taskkarr and Steelwing want to use me as monster-bait for a few years, first? What's the plan, here?"

"Ah, yeah…" She sucked her breath in between her teeth and gave him a slightly sheepish grin. "We should have a plan, shouldn't we? Well, of course we're going to help you get rid of your curse right away…" She caught herself for a moment and chuckled, "Though I can't promise that the guys won't take advantage of it while we're searching for the cure." 

Judeau gave her a wry but amused smile, and she gave a quiet chuckle before continuing:

"Okay, give me a moment and I'll think up some alternatives. Thirgynn might be a little more knowledgeable, but I've actually done some research on the matter of curses, myself…" While she collected her thoughts, Samina muttered under her breath: "…I mean, when you've got two beardless dwarves on your hand, you _will_ want to know anything and everything on how to change them back again… _before_ they successfully make your life a living…"

She shut herself up with a wry shake of her head, as the mere memory of the past months' incessant whining and griping threatened to redouble her weariness.

Focusing then, and unseeingly gazing into the dark depths of her tea, Samina tried to remember everything she had ever learnt about curses. Everything that Thirgynn had found out about Judeau's curse at the night of the divination ritual, and everything else that she had managed to dig up in conversations, books and old scriptures.

After a long moment of silent mulling-over, she finally turned to Judeau and scooted back until she rested her back against the timbered wall.

"Well," she began briskly, "The first thing to consider is of course the nature of the curse itself. If it's as powerful as Thirgynn said it was – if it was placed on you by a being anywhere near as powerful as a god – then it's really too potent for any common spirit mage to remove."

Judeau frowned and held up a stalling hand. "Wait, hang on… 'Spirit mage'?"

"Yes, spirit summoners, spirit healers… they are the kind of magic-users that you usually turn to in order to have a curse removed. But if the curse that the pesky necromancer put on Steelwing and the dwarves was too potent for common spirit mages, then this one is sure to be so, as well."

Judeau's frown deepened, and he interrupted again: "Uh, okay, wait just a moment, here… there are people who usually takes care of curses? Then, firstly: Are curses really that common? And secondly: Why couldn't one of those help you guys?"

Samina smiled. "Good questions, both. Let me try to give you some good answers for them. Firstly: No, curses are not common, not in any way. Neither are mages, really… they are expensive up to _here,_ though, but that's beside the point. Back to curses: While they do happen, they are nowhere near as common as they must seem to you, right now – in fact, in all my life, this is the only time any of my associates, friends or acquaintances have ever been cursed. Usually it'll only happen to you if you've angered the wrong witch or broken into a rich man's tomb, in which case the curse might not be very powerful, but carefully worded enough to have you dead… or otherwise… before you've had a chance to find a spirit mage. Which kind of brings me to your second question."

She paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, and Judeau shifted his position in slight restlessness.

"You see," she continued, "According to what I've found out, a curse is much more dependent of the actual wording than of the strength of the spell; a carefully worded curse won't need to be very powerful in order to do its job. And also, a curse can never be worded to directly kill someone: You can never say 'May you die from the green plague' since that'll only make the curse fizzle out the moment it's spoken. You can say 'May you catch the green plague', though, but then there's a chance that the subject will survive it. Nobody knows why it's like this, but some say that the God of death won't allow you to determine another creature's fate by use of magic, or something. Anyway, it's the wording that makes curses hard to cast, as I've understood it."

"Okay." Judeau nodded slowly, a frown of slight confusion creasing his brow. "…And how does this answer the question of why you couldn't be helped by a spirit mage?"

Samina waved a stalling hand at him. "I'm getting there. I'm just explaining piece-by-piece, so you'll get the whole picture. Don't interrupt."

"Sorry, I thought you had stopped talking. Go on."

"Okay. Now, then, we're getting to the point: When the necromancer saw us coming, knowing that we'd fought our way through all of his defences and were still going strong, he knew that he was done for. Being a necromancer of the alchemical persuasion, he most likely didn't have any quick or easy spells that affected several people at once – except for the curse… So he used it. And he knowingly put so much power into this final spell that it burnt out his own mind and soul – it's one of the most terrible and devastating ways a mage can die, commonly referred to as a 'suicide spell'. He died in an instant, but accomplished two, to him apparently very important things: The strength of the spell left an imprint on us – well, _them,_ but you know what I mean – that no mortal mage could ever hope to remove, so sooner or later, no matter how badly he might have screwed up the wording, the curse would most likely be the end of us. And secondly, casting a suicide spell made it absolutely impossible for us to take him alive, or kill him ourselves. He got to 'keep his honour' and get revenge on us, all in one neat little package."

Judeau nodded absently to himself, frowning thoughtfully at the flames in the hearth again. "Okay, I see now. So if you guys couldn't turn to a spirit mage because your curse was so… powerful? Strong? Potent? What's the word?"

"Thirgynn prefers 'potent'."

"Right, potent… then you're saying my curse is even more potent than yours? There's no way a spirit mage can help me?"

Samina frowned as well and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. If a god, demigod or demon lord placed that mark on you, with all the power that that entails, then only the power of a god can remove it again." She leaned her head back against the wall and tried an encouraging smile. "So that's why I think we should try to beseech the gods."

Judeau looked over at her, both eyebrows raised in surprise.

"So the gods… are real, then?"

She frowned at him. "You've been possessed by a ghost and suffered at the hands of demons, but you won't believe in gods?"

Judeau glanced down at the palm of his left hand, and then tried to disguise doing so by running the hand through his hair. "Well, I… Well, in the world that I come from, the priests claimed that their God was the only true faith, and that any and all other religion was demon worshipping… as far as they acknowledged other religions at all, that is. And they always preached that all men were created different – that poor people had less value than the nobles and the rich people… that those from the lower classes should never be so arrogant and sinful as to try to rise above their ordained lot in life, for God had created them insufficient to do that."

Samina couldn't help herself. "What the…?" she irately exclaimed, "Now, that's just hopping ridiculous! Don't tell me you bought that… _crap._"

Judeau turned to her with a small smile, calmly shaking his head. "No, I also found that hard to believe, especially in the company of…" He caught himself for a fraction of a second but continued smoothly, "…Of all the good men in the Band of the Hawk. Most of us were from the lower classes, you know, but we worked our way up, proving our worth time and time again… and as we got nearer to the top… I started to see things." He made stalling gestures at the expression on her face and hurriedly continued, "Not _see_ things, not like that, but I _noticed_ things in the behaviour of the priests and the nobles… I saw them and their fine houses and big dinners and full treasuries… while so many people starved and suffered and believed that they were being punished by God for… for simply being born. It didn't seem right." 

He shook his head slowly, frowning at the fire. "There was so much corruption. I just couldn't keep my faith when I looked closer, and saw that the people God had supposedly created as nobler and better than the rest of us turned out to be every bit as corruptible, decrepit and simple as those they ruled. To me, God became just another lie that the rich people told the poor to keep them in their place, and the gold in their own pockets. I guess I became wary of religion since then... not to mention all the stupid – and sometimes downright frightening – things that religion can make some people do."

"Yeah, I hear you… but," Samina hesitantly asked, not quite sure why this one thing made her feel so uncomfortable, "You only believed in one god? One single god? Were there no other religions at all?"

He shrugged, seeming to give the question some serious thinking. "None that the church allowed the people to know about, at least. Those that the priests did acknowledge were weird, depraved cults of heretics – stuff _really_ fit to scare naughty children with, you know – that they of course smashed to 'serve as an example to others' and show how good and righteous they were." Then he paused, thoughtfully looking off to the side before continuing quietly: "…Of course, there was the ancient tradition of the spirits of nature and the four elemental lords…" He shrugged again. "But nobody really believed in that anymore, and anyone who would have tried teaching those old ways would certainly be burned as a heretic as well."

Samina let out a small, exasperated puff of breath.

"Gods-cursed, hopping fanatics hopping _everywhere…_" she mumbled quietly, but quickly composed herself and cleared her throat.

"Okay, well," she briskly forged on, "In _this_ world, there are plenty of religions. From small, local beliefs to country-spanning doctrines, and even I can't deny that the gods are, indeed, real. As real as demons, if not quite as corporeal, if you get what I mean. But what is important to you, Judeau, is that the gods have holy power that can oppose and most often overcome the unholy energies of demons. A god might well be able to take that curse off of you – after all, it worked for us."

Judeau blinked in realisation and tapped his temple with one finger. "That's right, you guys said you got cured by a god before seeking Shammael… so that wasn't just some kind of advanced counter-spell, then."

"Nope." She shook her head. "Like I said, no counter-spell would have worked. This was the real deal."

He shifted position again, scooted a little closer to her and gave her a very businesslike look.

"All right, then: What gods can we turn to, where do we find them, and what do you think I'm going to have to pay?"

"Pay?" She rolled her eyes and smiled wryly. "Your immortal soul, of course. What else could a god want?" Then she leaned forward as well, turning as businesslike as him. "But seriously, there's a chance that you'll get away with performing a quest in the God's name, or serving at a temple for an odd number of years… I don't know for certain. I don't deal much with the gods, myself. As for the who and where… well…" 

She paused, thoughtfully scratching her scarred nose before looking up at him again with a cheerful grin.

"Actually," she said, "We have plenty of options. However, I happen to have a good idea of where we should start: You see, the one religion that almost all countries in this world must at least recognise is the tenet of the Eight Gods. This is the absolutely largest religion, and the gods are both very strong and very significant – but besides the Eight strongest, the ones who 'keeps the balance,' there are a myriad of lesser, more local and specialised gods. We should start there, with the Eight, and maybe explore the Lesser Gods if that don't work out. Beyond that, there are still more religions and gods we can turn to, if it should somehow come that far. First, though, I'm going to give you a quick course in the 'Eight Gods', because it's important and you should know about it. I should have done this sooner, but… well… religious stuff tends to slip my mind."

Judeau nodded. "Okay. You can start by explaining what you meant by 'keeping the balance'…?"

She felt another sheepish little smile creep onto her face, and rubbed her scarred nose again in an attempt to hide it. "I… don't know. Really. Like I've said, I'm not religious. The priests sometimes mention this 'balance', but they never explain it… and I tend to stop listening after a while, anyway." She cleared her throat and looked up at him again. "But it seems more like something they just say, without quite understanding themselves – so it's not something you need to understand, either. What's important is that you know about the Eight and their differences."

"Right…" Judeau didn't look too convinced, but let the subject go. "Most importantly, though: can they help me?"

"Most likely. The question is if they would be willing to, and if you would be willing to pay their price. Like the three malevolent Gods; Vakil, God of pain; Valdon, God of war and brutality; and Arachna, Goddess of lies and darkness – They would either prefer to leave your curse as it is, because of the potential suffering it could bring, or they would be only too happy to help and suspiciously diffuse about the price. Either way, they're not the kind of guys you'd want to deal with, so let's move on."

"Yes, let's," Judeau agreed, a look of faint, incredulous horror on his face. "Turning to those sounds about as bad as just letting the demons eat me."

Samina gave him a quick nod of agreement. "Yeah, it probably would be. The three benevolent Gods, though, might just be worth a shot. There's Thyr, god of chivalry and warfare, Aria, Goddess of light, and Freija, Goddess of life and fertility. Especially Aria and Freija might be inclined to help you, since your curse attracts demons and undead, and Aria harbours a great hate for demons and Freija feels the same way about the undead. I'm thinking it's worth asking, at least."

Judeau nodded. "Yes, that does sound like a far better option. And the other two Gods?"

Samina knitted her fingers together and pulled one leg up against her chest. "The other two are the two neutral Gods. One is Keran, God of the hunt and the beasts, and incidentally the same God that Shammael happens to be a priest for. As far as I've understood, the Master of the Beast keeps his plans to himself and rarely helps anyone who's not an active and useful worshipper. He's the spirit of the wild, of the predator, so he's considered both good and evil, entirely depending on who you ask." 

Her voice dropped a little, and she felt as though the warmth from the fire grew fainter as she quietly continued: "The other neutral God is the Nameless One, also known as the Balance-keeper, the Ultimate or the Final One. The one that everybody sooner or later runs into – the God of death. He might be an option, too, since the hatred that Freija has for the undead is matched and exceeded only by His. Then again, He very rarely interferes with the living – according to the priests, His only purpose is to be, not to act… Whatever that's supposed to mean." She pulled her knee a little closer up towards her chin and felt an uneasy frown crease her brow.

"Personally," she mumbled, "I'd rather keep very clear of Him."

Judeau studied her for a brief moment, and then his gaze slid back to the flames. He thoughtfully rubbed his round nose.

"Okay," he said calmly, leaning back a little. "Then we have something of a plan. That's good. Now we wait and hear what the others have to say, I suppose?"

She nodded. "That would be for the best, yeah."

A small, uncertain wrinkle had appeared between his eyebrows, and after a brief moment he turned to her again.

"But the God that you guys turned to, the dwarf God, wouldn't he be able to help, too?"

She shook her head. "Unfortunately not. He only helped us because the dwarves were afflicted – he's one of the 'Lesser' Gods, because he's so hopping specialised. We knew that there was a great chance that he would only lift the curse from the dwarves, despite everything that Steelwing had done on the quest, but Steelwing said that he was ready to take that risk – that it didn't really matter as long as he got to vanquish some evil. No, Vontar deals with his dwarves and that's it… For him to even acknowledge an elf, let alone help him… it's unheard of." She sighed and gazed off through the small window at the other end of the cabin, watching the rain pour down outside.

"But then again," she mused quietly, "Steelwing is not a normal elf in any way. He's a Crusader. He fights with the same death-defying fury as the dwarves, and I know that both Thirgynn and Taskkarr are impressed by him… even considers him an honourable man… and maybe… just maybe… even a friend." A small smile made the corners of her lips twitch. "Though they would rather shave themselves than admit that, of course. I guess Vontar did it for them."

There was a small smile in Judeau's voice as he broke the brief silence.

"And you're impressed by him too, aren't you?"

There was an insinuating, mischievous little spark in his eyes that made Samina feel oddly embarrassed. She decided to ignore it, carefully painting a look of innocence on her face.

"Of course," she admitted freely. "It's kind of hard to see him fight and _not_ be impressed, and I've seen him fight plenty of times. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

That annoying little smile did not disappear from Judeau's boyish features, but he looked away and gave a small nod.

"Yes, yes, I know…"

She couldn't help but frown in annoyance.

"What? What are you trying to say? Why are you smiling like that?"

He held both hands up as if to ward away her indignation and laughed. "Nothing, nothing! You just remind me of someone, that's all."

"Who?" she demanded, her annoyance only furthered by his laughter, "And why? What's so hopping funny?"

He looked away again and shook his head, still smiling and chuckling quietly to himself.

"No, no… It's really nothing, I promise. You wouldn't get it… actually, it's not even funny."

Biting her tongue to keep from making any more comments, Samina leaned back with a quiet huff, willing herself to just let it go – and not quite sure why she felt as though a blush threatened to rise to her cheeks. She directed her glare over at the window and crossed both arms over her chest, hoping that he wouldn't address her again before she'd gotten this weird feeling of embarrassment back under control.

He didn't, and after a while she tentatively glanced over at him again. His smile was gone, and that absent-minded, sad little frown had nestled itself onto his brow once more. The fingers of his right hand were slowly brushing over his down-turned left palm.

_What's going on in there, Judeau?_ she thought. _You'd better not be thinking about leaving again._

"Hey," she said quietly, "What are you thinking about?"

His whole body twitched and his hands quickly balled into fists, but the face he turned to her was the perfect image of innocence, like he'd merely been startled out of an inconsequential reverie.

"Hm?"

Samina wasn't buying it. "You're doing it again, Judeau. You're brooding. What's going on?"

He smiled a very easy smile, but avoided eye contact as he shook his head.

"Nothing's going on. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh. Right. I'm not convinced. The last time I let you get away with wearing a face like that, you almost ran off on your own private little suicide mission."

"It's nothing like that, I assure you."

"Then what is it?"

He kept on smiling, staring into the flames, and just calmly shook his head. Samina almost let out a frustrated sigh.

"Judeau, come on. This time, you have to tell me – _before_ you do something heroically stupid."

"Tsh…" he sighed, leaning away from her a bit, the first hints of a frown on his face. "I just have a lot to think about, since the Brand reappeared. I'm dealing with it."

_Now we're getting somewhere._ Samina calmly took another sip of her tea. "How?"

Judeau's frown deepened and he sent her a slightly annoyed glance, which she responded to by raising both her eyebrows in emphasis of her question. He turned his frown on the fire again and let out a small huff of exasperation.

"I feel stupid, okay? I thought that those feelings the drugs imposed on me were real – that I'd left my past behind me and all was fine. I just feel like I should have _known…_ that it wasn't going to be that easy."

Samina blinked, thinking about the few, incoherent things he'd mumbled when he'd been hanging off of her shoulder, right after the ghost's possession. "It was easy?"

Judeau scowled at the flames. "_Comparatively_ easy, at least. It was like… like I just forgot about them. Like they didn't matter anymore."

"They, who?" she gently, softly inquired. Judeau sighed and some of the previous sadness shone through in his features.

"Everyone. The Band of the Hawk: All my friends and… everyone. I can't believe I just… forgot about them, just like that, and didn't think there was something strange going on."

Samina thoughtfully sucked on the inside of her cheek, before speaking again in a soft, careful voice:

"Well, you're a sharp man, Judeau. I bet you pride yourself in your ability to notice things – I mean, you're a scout, after all – but… how were you supposed to know? You didn't know that you were being drugged, did you?"

He glanced over at her, still frowning, and shook his head slightly. She gave an empathic shrug.

"Drugs will do that to you – The whole point with poisons like Heart's Rest is that you're not supposed to know you're affected. You didn't know and you couldn't have known. Besides, it's a human trait to always try to convince yourself that what you _want_ to believe is true… the drug just made it a whole lot easier to do so. Don't beat yourself up about it – you were just being human."

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before sending her a small, wan smile.

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

But he looked away again, and Samina frowned uncertainly. _That's not all, though, is it?_

As much as she felt that he'd rather be left alone to think, she still didn't quite trust him not to try to do something stupid again, so she decided to dare a little light prodding:

"Of course," she mused quietly, pretending to be paying more attention to her tea than to him, "That won't stop you from missing them _now._"

"No…" he sighed absently. "It doesn't."

Samina threw a quick glance up at his face when he spoke, and was pleased to see that the sad frown had returned to it. _So that's all it is, then. Good._

"That's good," she said softly, and he looked back at her with mild surprise. She gave him an honest smile and a small shrug. "Grieving our losses is just another part of being human. If we wouldn't do it, we'd go crazy."

The corners of his mouth twitched before twisting into a lopsided, but more sincere smile than before, and he nodded in agreement. Samina gave him a smile in return, then leaned back and closed her eyes, meaning to steal a nap as well as give Judeau the space that he wanted to think. She heard him quietly mutter to himself, the lopsided smile still audible in his voice:

"…How ironic."

She opened one eye and peered curiously at him. He wasn't looking at her anymore, but seemed to have noticed her unspoken question anyway. He gave a small shake of his head.

"Those are supposed to be my lines. I was always the guy who had it all together… who said all the encouraging words. Never thought I'd have to hear them from anyone else."

Samina pondered what kind of reply he might want for that – or if it even warranted a reply – for a while, then she shrugged and took a quick sip from her tea.

"I don't think," she carefully muttered into the cup, "That anyone can go through life without having to hear words like that from _someone_, at some point… but I can shut up if it makes you uncomfortable."

He gave her a smile and a small shrug, and then a gentle shake of his head. There was no need to say anything else, so Samina just gave him a simple nod and leaned back again, closing her eyes once more.

Though she couldn't help but smile when she heard a very quietly murmured "Thanks."

A few seconds later, though, the outside door swung open and a most horrible stench swept into the small room, making napping immediately and absolutely impossible.

~  
"Scoot, manlings!" Taskkarr's mighty voice bellowed, and both humans' heads snapped around to the sound of it. The demon-hunter was glowing, as if he had been oiled up from head to toe, and he was completely naked save for a towel wrapped around his wide waist – for which Judeau was thankful. The dwarf's muscles were every bit as oversized as they had appeared underneath all the armour, yet also padded with a healthy layer of body fat – but what really caught Judeau's stunned attention was the huge, incredible tattoo that adorned the dwarf's tough-looking, scarred and currently glossy skin. 

Looking for all the world like one single design, it twisted out in multicoloured patterns and runes all over the dwarf's chest, stomach and upper arms, disappearing down behind the covering cloth. Judeau thought he could even see a hint of the design reaching down onto Taskkarr's immense thighs, and he did not doubt for a second that it covered the dwarf's back, too. It almost seemed to move along with the rippling muscles as Taskkarr resolutely came stomping over to the fireplace, but Judeau's study of the fascinating design was cut short when the horrible stench finally made its way from his nostrils to register in his brain.

"Holy fuuh…!"

Both he and Samina dived aside, keeping their noses firmly covered and muttering curses under their breaths. Unperturbed, Taskkarr plopped down in the exact spot where Judeau had been sitting, and heaved a deep sigh of relief. Samina fumbled with the window-catch, and soon had it opened with a little help from Judeau. It didn't do much for the atmosphere in the cabin, but the stench was just a little bit more bearable right next to the window.

Before either human had had a chance to recuperate, the next smelly dwarf entered the room. Thirgynn looked just the same as Taskkarr, except perhaps a little, little less buff and without the tattoo. The miracle-worker tugged his makeshift loincloth tighter around himself when he noticed the two humans, and hesitated for a moment.

"Um… I feel the need to apologise for the way we… smell… currently," he said with the tiniest apologetic bow, "But it is unfortunately necessary for us to stay out of the rain while the wee- uh, herbal oil… takes effect."

Judeau felt his eyes begin to water and suppressed the urge to cough. "Okay. I understand." He looked over at Samina. "Maybe we should wait outside, then?"

She barely had a chance to nod before Thirgynn interrupted:

"That would not be advisable. The smell is as bad out there, and it's not going to get better when Mr. Shammael pours the oil out."

Samina swore quietly and Judeau inwardly agreed. As he tried to come up with something that would, if possible, distract him from the awful stench, he watched Thirgynn walk up to Taskkarr with something unusually _official_ in his gait.

As the miracle-worker came up beside the demon hunter he calmly sat down, facing the other dwarf and bowed his head as if in submission. Taskkarr glanced over at Thirgynn with a surprised but not entirely unknowing frown, as the miracle-worker calmly intoned something in dwarfish. It almost sounded like a prayer or a song. Intrigued and not a little confused, Judeau studied Taskkarr's reaction.

The demon hunter frowned as if in annoyance and crossed his arms very stubbornly over his massive chest, turning away from the kneeling dwarf to stare into the hearth.

"No," He grunted sourly. "I don't want to."

Thirgynn looked up, blinking in surprise. "…What?"

Taskkarr remained completely still, staring stoically into the fire and radiating an aura of annoyed discomfort. Thirgynn leaned forwards a little, frowning in confusion.

"But… Sir Taskkarr… Your honour is restored – you are once again the _Zur'Vorh,_ and I am your appointed _Hakkr._ You _must_ reinstate me."

Taskkarr's arms tightened a little further around his bulk.

"No, I don't. I released you from your servitude, and I don't have to take you back."

In obvious bewilderment, Thirgynn rubbed a big hand over his glossy scalp. "But, Sir… The ancient traditions… I was appointed to you by the dwarf King himself, do you really mean to-"

"So what if I do?" Taskkarr grouchily interrupted. "I have no need, want nor use for a servant – even less for a bodyguard!" Then his voice dropped to an almost embarrassed, hushed mutter:

"The tradition is old and… in this case… unnecessary. I'd rather work with you as a teammate. You're a miracle-worker – it feels… weird… to have you as a _Hakkr._ In all other matters, you are my equal – if not more. I don't like it."

Thirgynn paused, raising a thoughtful eyebrow at the stubbornly unmoving Taskkarr. Then his voice dropped as well, to a calm and very reasonable tone:

"Since I am not yet reinstated properly, I will disregard that thoughtless comment. I will only say this: The traditions are there for a reason, Sir Taskkarr. They are the very foundation on which the dwarven kingdom is built. If we were to break or disregard one tradition, out of personal convenience, where would it stop? And I do not quite agree that you don't need a bodyguard, Sir – the life of a demon bane is always hanging in the balance. You have had much use of me, my skills and my advice."

Then he leaned even further in towards Taskkarr, his frown slowly turning darker.

"I am a very good _Hakkr,_" he growled quietly. "I do my duties and I do them well. If you want to release me from your service, then you must find a better reason than the fact that you just aren't used to having servants." He leaned back again, still fixing Taskkarr with a hard gaze. "And if you do have a better reason, tell me about it right now so that I can change it – if I can't perform my _Hakkr_ duties the way I am supposed to, it will be a permanent stain on the honour of my entire clan, not to mention myself. As well you know."

The demon hunter huffed and set his jaw.

"It doesn't say anywhere that I have to have a good reason to release you," he muttered, still not meeting the other dwarf's eyes. "If I don't complain, you won't lose any honour. And you don't have to be my _Hakkr_ to come with me, help me out or make me listen to your advice. You did that all this time during the curse – I see no reason why it would have to change now."

The miracle-worker crossed his arms around his own broad chest and turned his frown into an annoyed scowl.

"Now you're just being argumentative, Sir, and I'm not amused. It has to change because you are no longer a nameless, beardless demon bane without honour; you are the _Zur'Vohr,_ and I am no longer a nameless, beardless miracle-worker in the same desperate situation; I am your _Hakkr,_ appointed by the dwarf King and the Council of Miracles. You _know_ this – now stop arguing and reinstate me!"

Taskkarr finally glanced over at Thirgynn, and a slightly harder edge crept into his quiet mutter:

"Is that really what you want, Thirgynn? Do you really want to be a servant – tied to me, the son of a common murvelbeast-breeder – for the rest of your life? Do you think that's a proper position for the favoured apprentice of Yorrakk Gurnis the Thunderer?"

Thirgynn matched his hard-edged voice and raised him a glare.

"You know as well as I do, _Sir_ Taskkarr, that it does not matter what a dwarf _has been,_ as long as you know what he is _now._ You may have been born as the son of a murvel-breeder, but you have been elevated since! With title comes privilege, and with privilege comes responsibility – if you can't handle the responsibility…"

"That's not what I said!" Taskkarr interrupted with an enraged roar. 

A very tense silence followed his outburst, and neither dwarf averted their stubborn glare from the other's. After a few moments, the demon hunter continued in a quiet, low-pitched growl:

"That's not what I was saying, and you know it."

A couple of the angry lines in Thirgynn's face smoothed out and though he didn't for an instant break eye-contact with Taskkarr, his voice returned right back to its usual calm reasonability.

"No, you're right. My last comment was out of line, and I apologise for it."

Taskkarr also seemed to calm down along with Thirgynn. He was still scowling, but there was no longer any real menace in it, and his posture slouched very slightly. He said nothing, and Thirgynn continued with a hint of a smile on his face:

"Sir Taskkarr, really, this position does not humiliate me. Not in any way – not to the clans, nor to myself. I am honestly and sincerely proud to have been appointed, so… please, Sir… reinstate me. I have my honour back, let me have my pride as well."

It was Taskkarr who finally averted his eyes, and he did it with a deep, defeated sigh.

"Well, technically," he said, with not much real hope in his weary voice, "Our beards haven't grown out yet…"

"Taskkarr…" the warning was obvious in the miracle-worker's voice, and his eyebrows furrowed dangerously. "_Technically,_ it's only a matter of time. Stop stalling." 

The demon hunter sighed again.

"All right, all right, fine…" he huffed. Then he rose to his feet, smoothed out the front of his towel and pulled himself up in his full, not-very-grand, but surprisingly authoritative length, balled his right hand into a fist and pounded it twice against his own heart. Then he bowed his head to Thirgynn, who stood and did the same. Taskkarr then straightened up again and, holding his hand over the Miracle-worker's bent head, recited what sounded like the second half of the song/prayer thing that Thirgynn had begun earlier.

When the recitation was over, both dwarves struck their right fist over their hearts.

Then the whole thing seemed to be played out. Thirgynn flopped down, rather unceremoniously, in front of the fireplace, and Taskkarr looked over at the two humans with a dark scowl.

"You're honoured, manling," he grunted at Judeau. "Not many humans get to see a dwarven ritual up close, like that."

Judeau was on the verge of asking just what this ordeal had been about, but decided not to – Taskkarr wasn't looking very talkative. But he didn't have to worry about saying anything, because he merely had time to give Taskkarr a small nod before Samina suddenly snapped her fingers and spoke up excitedly:

"Hey, I just thought of something. Say, Taskkarr, Judeau and I have been talking about what to do about his curse-"

"Huh," the demon hunter interrupted, seeming pleased to change the subject. "Did you come up with any ideas?"

"Well, yeah… Beseeching the Gods, starting with the Eight – but now I'm thinking that maybe it won't be necessary after all-"

"Really?" Taskkarr resumed his seat before the fire. "What else, then?"

"Well, if you'd let me finish speaking, I'd have told you already!"

Taskkarr glared back at the bounty hunter over his shoulder. "So say it then!"

Samina made a small huff of exasperation, but continued patiently:

"I'm thinking: Wouldn't it be enough to just give him a demon bane's tattoo, like yours? Wouldn't that just negate the curse?"

Taskkarr frowned deeply and turned around to face her. Samina quickly continued:

"Come on, it wouldn't be the first time a human got a dwarf tattoo – You sell them to other demon hunters all the time…"

Studying the large, intricate design, Judeau wasn't at all sure that he really _wanted_ one. "Ow…?"

"That's not the issue," Thirgynn interrupted, also turning around and wearing his standard reasonable scholar-face. "The problem is that the demon bane's tattoo doesn't quite work the right way. It only keeps the demons from affecting _him_ with their psychic abilities, it wouldn't stop the rune from attracting _them_ to him or driving them into a frenzy of hunger. Also, it would have no effect whatsoever on the undead, I'm afraid."

"Drat." Samina hung her head and sheepishly glanced up at Judeau. "Sorry, I thought I had a quick solution for you, there."

Judeau couldn't quite keep the relief out of his voice as he smiled at her. "No problem. We still have a good plan to go by."

"Yes," Thirgynn agreed with an approving smile, "Just the course of action that I was going to suggest, myself."

A gust of cool air brought a new cloud of eye-watering stench into the small cabin, along with the glistening shape of Steelwing.

"And that is what?" the elf asked, calmly striding over to stand next to the fireplace. 

Judeau felt a twinge of envy as he watched the tall, muscular man walk across the room – nobody should have the right to look that good, wearing only a towel. Steelwing was like some kind of bizarre but perfect hybrid of what Griffith and Gatts had been, managing to look strong without seeming bulky, agile without seeming lithe. Add to that a subtle but very even tan, and a coat of oil…

_Pff…_ Judeau thought, leaning back against the wall with a self-conscious grin. _At least I don't reek like seven different kinds of rot._

Then he realised that no one had answered Steelwing's question yet. Taskkarr seemed to be ignoring the elf, as he tended to do whenever he felt irritable, and Thirgynn was looking over at Samina with keen interest, as though he hadn't heard the question at all.

Judeau glanced over at the woman next to him, and almost had to bite his own tongue to keep himself from laughing.

She was blushing. And staring. And, every now and then, blinking very slowly. It was quite an unexpected sight.

Judeau composed himself with a small cough and turned back to Steelwing.

"We figured we'd try talking to the Gods, about removing my curse," he said, still grinning, "Since that seemed to help you guys and all. Right, Samina?"

"Er, yes," she agreed, snapping out of her daze. She quickly cleared her throat. "Starting with the Eight. Hrm. What do you think?"

Steelwing shrugged indifferently, not looking away from the dancing flames in the hearth. "Master Thirgynn is the authority on magic," he said, "If the master miracle-worker thinks it is a good idea, then it is."

"Great!" Samina's cheerfulness was still a little bit strained. "Then that's what we'll do!"

"_After_ we've done something else."

All eyes in the room turned to Taskkarr. The demon-hunter did not turn to face them, but the tone of his voice did not allow for any argument:

"First, we must visit my home. Mine and Thirgynn's families must see that we are restored. Then we can do whatever you want."

A short, contemplative silence followed the dwarf's words, then Judeau tentatively spoke up.

"But… Taskkarr… do you really want to bring me to your home? With the Brand and without Shammael's presence…"

Taskkarr huffed and turned around to meet Judeau's eyes, a hint of amusement in his features.

"Hah, believe you me, manling, short of in the company of a Healer, there is nowhere safer for you to be than in a dwarf hold. We have powerful runes of our own, you know."

Judeau smiled back and shrugged. "All right, I trust you know what you're doing, then."

Then he clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall.

"Looks like you guys get to use me as demon-bait for while, after all," he jokingly mused.

"That's just a boon," Taskkarr grunted with a grin, then he pointed with his thumb over at the silent elf. "Though I'm sure Mr deep-elf Crusader is just about jumping up and down with joy…"

Steelwing just gave a quiet huff. 

"Demons are evil," he stated calmly. "Therefore they must be vanquished. But curses are evil, too. I am not eager to use evil as a mean to destroy evil – to purposely do that would make _me_ evil as well."

Taskkarr gave Judeau a very human, would-you-listen-to-that kind of look.

"Okay," he rumbled, almost rolling his eyes. "My mistake."

Judeau looked from Taskkarr to Steelwing and cocked his head to the side.

"Really Steelwing? Then what was all that talk about my curse being a blessing to you? And choosing battlefields and all that?"

The elf finally looked over at him with one eyebrow raised in possible annoyance.

"That I am not _eager_ to use one evil to destroy another does not mean that I will not do it," he explained patiently. "But I _will_ try to destroy the evil that helps me, as well. Really, the rules of the Crusader are simple enough on this point: Destroy _all_ evil. In other words, should I side with evil for any other purpose than to destroy it as soon as opportunity presents itself, the rules would have me destroy myself." He paused for a moment, gazing thoughtfully into the fire before giving a very slight shrug.

"And that has happened before, to other Crusaders before me. It is one way to fulfil one's purpose."

Judeau blinked, not really sure that he comprehended everything that the Crusader had said, just now. He forcefully suppressed an urge to ask 'So just what is that, then?' because it felt as though that was something he had already been told.

_But he can't mean… no, I don't think I get it._

"Uh… so…" The silence in the cabin suddenly seemed a little awkward. Judeau found himself trying to lighten up the mood. "You're saying you're just waiting for a chance to kill me off?"

"Certainly not," the elf sighed dispassionately, keeping his grey eyes on the fire. "Your curse is evil but you, yourself, are innocent." Then he sent Judeau a very sharp look that for an instant seemed perfectly serious. "Are you not?"

Taken aback for only a moment, Judeau laughed nervously – and found that he really didn't have to fake it.

"Oh yes," he eagerly reassured the stern Crusader, rubbing his hands together in a consciously exaggerated gesture of nervousness/possible guilt. "All innocent over here, heh heh… Just a victim of circumstance, yes sir. Nothing to see here, move along, move along…"

Samina chuckled and Thirgynn smiled in amusement, but Steelwing kept his eyes on Judeau's for a little while longer before giving him a slow, not-too-convinced nod.

But Judeau was absolutely certain that he saw the corners of Steelwing's mouth twitch upwards for a brief instant – not so much a smile as a small facial gesture of acknowledged amusement – as the elf turned back to the fire. And the mood had lifted once again.

Judeau put his hands back behind his head and stretched a little, ignoring the stench with a small, smug smile of accomplishment.

  
-*--*-

Reviewer Responses: (Gasp! I've passed the one hundred mark! Woo! Thank you all! Luv ya to pieces!)  
Lizalou42: Well, honestly, I haven't really revealed the "Phoenix" part yet, but it'll come. You're very welcome to re-read anyway! ;) And thank you very much for your nice, long review. It made me grin really widely. *bows*  
Merina: No throttling the Judeau-Muse. How would I be able to write if you did? ^_^ Thank you!  
Drachen: *bows* Ah, Drachen-sama. It is good to know you're still reading on. About what you wrote in my art guestbook... there was a bug, and I'd really like to know what you meant to say. Mind telling me again?  
Azrael: Another well-worded review that made me all warm and fuzzy inside. Thank you, and please keep enjoying!  
Kara-sama: Certainly. I do want to encourage fellow Judeau-fans: His fandom needs more creative people. Write on! (Pun intended. ^_^)  
Gorgonzola: How's life, Master Cheeselord? I know you liked this chapter, because it had a lot of Taskkarr in it, so I'm not gonna ask if you did. ;)  
DarkFusion: I'll tell you what I've told Lizalou - I haven't gotten to the "Phoenix" part yet. And do you really want me to give away the story beforehand? Thanks for reviewing!  
Portia: Thank you! I hope you stick around, 'cause this is going to be a looong ride...  
Lauralana: ^_^ Thanks for making me laugh! Of course I'm gonna finish this, haven't I said so already? Don'cha worry, I ain't goin' nowhere.  
Decealon: Thank you! Update presented!  
Smack54: Yep, that's on purpose. ^_^ So glad you appreciate it!  
iunno: Thank you very much!  
fuzipenguin: *purrs* Awww, you made me feel all warm and fuzzy! It's always a pleasure to attract new pawns- I mean, readers. Eh-heh... I hope you find the rest as entertaining!  
Peer: Thank you so much, It's very nice to hear my readers' reactions. I appreciate it muchly!  
iunno1: Harr harr, welcome to the fold! ...Er, I mean, I'm so glad you like what you're reading! I hope I can keep entertaining you!

Now you've read, please review! The plotbunnies can't live on warm fuzzies alone! 


	15. A Matter of Attitudes

How I have toiled with this chapter... as anyone who's followed my blog will know. It took a good, long time, but I'm thinking that thoseof you who've been around for a while are getting used to this by now.  
Well, at least I haven't given up: They might be slow in coming, but the chapters keep on going. I'm actually satisfied with that.

--

Chapter Fifteen: A Matter of Attitudes

"A minute of your time, boy."

Judeau paused in his preparations for the departure and looked up at the rugged old Healer, who calmly gestured at him to follow. Curious, he let Shammael lead the way into the small cabin, away from the others.

"What is it?"

The Healer didn't answer right away, busying himself with the various objects on his little table. When he turned around, he was holding up a small leather pouch.

"Here," he said, "I want you to have this."

Judeau reproachfully lifted his hands up in front of himself.

"Shammael, please… you really don't have to give me anything more – I swear I'm not holding a grudge…"

"Shut up." The old man sent him a seriously meant glare and waved the pouch around a little to emphasise his point: "Were you planning on going off on this crazy quest, with those crazy people, without bringing any medicine whatsoever?" He huffed. "In that case you might as well stop packing right now and start hammering on your coffin. As a Healer, I can't let you do that: You'll take this with you."

Shammael tossed the pouch at Judeau, who easily caught it.

"Medicine?"

The weight and feel of the pouch in his hand felt surprisingly familiar. Judeau hesitated, trying to figure out where this small stirring of memory was coming from.

"Yes," the Healer replied. "Of course, I had to use most of it in the healing potions and poultices I gave you… and the others. But there's still enough in there to keep you alive for a good long time, if you'll just have the sense to use it properly…"

Listening with only half an ear, the blond scout curiously opened the pouch and glanced inside - and recognition hit him with an immediacy that sucked the bottom right out of his stomach. The rich green colour, the light, powdery substance, along with the oddly whimsical scent that playfully rose to his nostrils, brought a surprised smile to his face.

"Fairy dust!" He looked from the pouch to the old Healer, smiling in pure, childish excitement. "It's fairy dust!"

The Healer fell silent and cocked his head to the side.

"So you know about it, then?"

"Yes. I used to have a pouch of it, just like this one… Saved my life - I don't know how many times..."

Judeau stuck his finger into the fine dust and the familiar, faintly warm and almost tingling sensation against his fingertip filled him with a surprisingly strong and pleasant sense of nostalgia. Finding something so familiar so very far away from home was bringing him way back - further, even, than the last time he had owned a pouch like this. Back to a time before demons, commanders and mercenaries, before commitments and complications, when this faint scent and warmly tickling touch had been accompanied by the subtle flutter of gossamer wings and the bright sound of childish, excited laughter. When a game of 'Catch Me If You Can' had still been the ultimate thrill and a skilfully executed prank had been the epitome of good humour.

Yes, he'd sure had the perfect partner in mischief, back then... and the perfect confidant when he'd been discovered and reprimanded. Those punishments had never stung for long...

Memories of happier and infinitely more carefree days rose from deep, forgotten corners of his mind and presented themselves with unexpected clarity. Even the bittersweet memory of the day he'd left childhood behind to become a mercenary made him have to stifle a giggle. A small voice, bright even with the badly concealed tears therein, scolded him haughtily from across the years:

_"Now, don't get killed out there, y'hear?! You can't count on me anymore, if you're so intent on leaving, remember that! From now on, you're actually going to have to be _careful!_"_

"Huh," Shammael grunted, interrupting Judeau's happy trip down memory lane. "Well, good, then you know how to use it."

Judeau nodded with a wide grin on his face.

"Yeah, I sure do. Thank you, Shammael, this will definitely come in handy. Thank you very much." He closed the pouch and gave it a playful toss into the air, catching it easily. As he tied the pouch to his belt he returned somewhat to the present, and gave Shammael a slightly uncertain glance.

"Uh... You can replace this, can't you?"

The Healer waved dismissively. "Oh yeah. I just have to hang out some chimes and streamers, and every fairy in this forest will be fluttering hither. Er… that is… when I'm…"

Shammael trailed off, uncertainly clearing his throat and suddenly looking everywhere except at the blond young man in front of him. Judeau understood, and his smile finally faded away as more or less warranted feelings of guilt pressed it from his face. His branded hand almost subconsciously closed into a fist.

_When I'm not here anymore, so that your aura will work again._

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, trying to think of a good way to change the subject and keep the mood light. "I, uh, understand that the others have been pestering you a bit about coming along…"

A shadow of weariness passed over the old Healer's face and he heaved a small sigh.

"Ahh, they just don't understand. I've _told_ them that I can't but…" He shrugged and scratched his neck thoughtfully. "The girl kind of gets it, but I can tell that she still can't really... _accept…_ Well, she's a clever and very practical-minded girl. I think it's just easier for her _not_ to understand that it's precisely because you're really going to need me that I can't come along."

Judeau smiled a little lopsidedly and nodded. "Yeah... I guess so."

Shammael made a weird snorting sound and looked up at Judeau with a sparkle of humour in his grey-blue eyes.

"Pheh, like _you_ understand it so much better."

Judeau couldn't keep himself from grinning apologetically. "Shammael, I-"

The Healer cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand and turned away with a rather light-hearted huff.

"Ahh, how could you, anyway? You're not a Healer, and neither are they. _I_ can't understand how _you_ can... live the way you do, so why would it be any easier for you to see why I _can't?_" He shrugged and tossed Judeau a dismissive wave over his shoulder.

"Get out, boy. I'm done with you. Go finish your packing before the other maniacs grow impatient and... I don't know... start chewing on things or something."

Judeau's smile returned in full, and with a light shake of his head, he left the old man to his own business.

_Yeah, I'll miss you too._

He paused briefly in the doorway.

"Thank you, Shammael."

"Yeah, yeah."

-  
When the sun had risen almost half way up into the clear morning sky, the odd team of warriors departed from the Healer's little cabin.

Shammael shook hands with each of them and accepted their various expressions of gratitude once more, and then watched them until they were no longer distinguishable between the trees. Judeau turned back three times to wave, and the third time Shammael threw a pinecone after the blond boy. The resulting, distant laughter brought a grin to the old man's wrinkled face, and as he turned back to the house he gave Paw's shaggy head a brief scratch.

"You know," he murmured to the grey wolf hybrid, "Laughter really is the antidote to pain."

Paw rose and quietly followed his master back to the house, stopping only briefly to glance over at the confused Tail, who was pacing uncertainly back and forth in the direction the party had disappeared, whining and whimpering to himself. Paw gave the brown dog a silent huff, but didn't wait for him to make up his mind.

As the door slid shut behind his bushy tail, Paw sat back on his haunches and begun staring intently at the quietly humming Healer. Shammael's smile slowly withered away under the intense, yellow-eyed scrutiny, despite his best efforts to ignore it by taking inventory of his remaining herbs and drugs. Finally, he forcefully set one of the small wooden boxes down on the table and met Paw's eyes with an annoyed glare.

"What?!"

Paw tilted his head slightly to the side, his gaze never wavering.

"Told who? About what?" Shammael huffed and turned back to his herbs. "Tail? He'll get over it, he's a very ordinary dog. In half an hour, he won't even remember that they were ever here."

Paw's ears flicked backwards. Shammael threw a quick glance down at the dog, and then sighed heavily.

"I wouldn't know where to start, all right? They were all such strange people... and it's not always necessary to know everything about everybody - that can cause more trouble than it ever prevents, you know."

Paw huffed, lowering his muzzle a little as if to stare up at the Healer through his brows. Shammael abruptly straightened up and sent a very serious glare down at the wolf hybrid.

"Yeah, well, so what? I'm a Healer, just what do you think you can expect from me? Sure I take the easy way out sometimes, but it's not like they won't be able to handle any of it, or to protect themselves if necessary. I mean..." He started pacing and articulated his points with wide gestures, Paw following his every move with calm, yellow eyes. "...The elf can handle himself. He must have been doing that for a really long time already, and, well, he's _an elf,_ so there's nothing I can do for him anyway. Nothing. And he knows that. And whatever that is inside the girl, it's dormant. If it hasn't caused any trouble for her yet, why would it ever? And if it has, she wouldn't be any happier if I told all of her comrades that there's some kind of... of... frighteningly... _malicious_ energy... sort of... _inside_ the energies of her spirit. I mean, she likes her team mates, I can tell. She wouldn't want to hurt them. If it was anything she couldn't handle, and she knows about it, I really don't think she would stick around and endanger them."

Paw tilted his head to the side again. Shammael stopped and defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

"But if she doesn't, then what's to say she ever _will_ find out about it? What if it never 'wakes up' and I've alienated all her friends and made her worry for herself constantly, for the rest of her life, for no reason at all? No, I'm not doing that!"

Paw huffed and lay down, finally breaking eye-contact.

"Shut up," Shammael grunted sourly, self-consciously twiddling with the leather straps of one of his herb-bags. Silence prevailed for a little while, and then the Healer muttered, seemingly to himself:

"'Sides, I think she knows. It's basically behaving like a Birthright, so I think it is… since she had one but really didn't want to talk about it, and all... And for that matter, I could have told them about Judeau, too. He's not properly normal, either - and I'm not talking about that rune."

Paw's ears perked up in curiosity and he opened his eyes. Shammael was quiet for a while longer, and when he spoke again an uncertain hush had crept into his voice.

"His wounds were wide open. Wide open. When I found him, he should have been lying in a pool of blood - if not bled out completely. Yet... he didn't start bleeding until I picked him up. I even healed him before that, and I felt... I felt nothing. Nothing was keeping the blood from flowing out of him. Nothing at all." He paused and shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know what that means."

Then he sent a glare over at where Paw laid and growled decisively, "But it sure ain't normal! Hmpf, trust me, whatever weird thing happens to those people, they are weird enough themselves to handle it."

Paw met his master's gaze for a moment and his tail bounced a few times against the floor. Another brief silence filled the little cabin, interrupted only by the subtle rustling of dried herbs.

"It was nice having them here, though," Shammael murmured after a while. "Even those damn stubborn dwarves. If more people had their resistance to damage, my life would be a whole lot easier." A small, self-conscious smile settled on his lips with a weary sigh. "And a lot harder, too. And Judeau and the girl were very easy to like. They laughed a lot."

This time, the silence was very thoughtful. Paw watched the Healer almost pensively, but still without lifting his shaggy head from the floor.

"You know," Shammael finally mused out loud, "I think it'll work out just fine to have an apprentice this year. Yeah. I can't see why not. In fact, I'm going to start looking for one tomorrow, I think."

Paw's head abruptly rose and a small sound of surprise escaped his throat. Then, his jaws slowly opened and his tongue lolled out in a canine grin, his tail beginning to thump a quick rhythm against the floor. Shammael sent the dog another annoyed, sideways glance and sniffed.

"Oh, shut up."

o  
Some days later and a long way from the little cabin, in that vaguely undecided zone where the dark, heavy forest slowly fades into the wide, open Ducarri plains, the dying embers of a small cooking fire struggled vainly to keep some warmth in little cauldron above them. In front of said campfire, the bowl and spoon in her hands as forgotten as the makeshift hearth, sat Samina. With dry mouth and fluttering heartbeats, she followed every move of Judeau and Steelwing as they danced around each other on the top of the small rise in the clearing, swords blazing and flickering in the rays of the early morning sun that just rose over the hill, providing the scene with a dramatic backlight.

It was beautiful. To someone as used to swordplay as Samina was, the spectacle on the hill was a display of pure, moving poetry. Sure, Judeau was plainly no match for Steelwing, but not in any way unskilled: Though the Crusader easily evaded every attack and seemed to be effortlessly leading the blond human around each blow, Samina knew her elven companion well enough to tell that he was not holding back, nor playing around. The speed alone at which the combatants exchanged blows was a testament to how impressive their abilities were - as well as a hint at a rising frustration in Judeau.

And despite the early-morning autumn chill, both men had discarded their shirts by now - effectively making the scene just that much more interesting.

Then, unexpectedly, a deep, melodious baritone spoke up right behind Samina and she snapped upright with a suddenness that sent her bowl tumbling to the ground, spilling out all the cool porridge in it:

"What in Vontar's name is this?!"

"Oh, Thirgynn." pressing a hand against her chest, Samina turned and gave the miracle-worker a quick, breathless smile. "You surprised me."

The dwarf looked from the spilt mush to the bounty-hunter and raised one chalk-white eyebrow at her.

"Apparently. Now, that doesn't happen very often, Samina. I ask you again: what by the Anvil of Durgin is going on up there?"

A sudden, sharp clang of steel brought Samina's attention back to the two men on the hill. Judeau was at the point of one of Steelwing's blades, holding only one of his own swords in his hand. As Samina and Thirgynn watched, the other of the blond man's scimitars landed impotently on the ground several arms' lengths away from the two combatants.

After a very brief but remarkably tense silence, Steelwing quietly, calmly spoke up:

"Interesting technique, Mr Judeau. Would you care to demonstrate that again, just a little faster this time?"

"Sure," Judeau panted, his voice noticeably strained. "Just give me a sec."

As the blond man stepped back and turned around, Steelwing withdrew his blade – and Samina felt a stubby finger somewhat impatiently poke her shoulder. She turned back to the dwarven miracle-worker with an apologetic grin.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Thirgynn. They're just sparring, that's all."

"Sparring?" The dwarf cast an incredulous glance up at the hill. "That's sparring, is it? Seems more like a duel to me. The way two dwarves would spar, in fact." He frowned and scratched the thick, chalk-white stubble on his chin. "I am surprised."

"Me too. Judeau had just gotten out of bed and was about to have some breakfast, when Steelwing just walks over and says: 'You use twin blades. Spar with me.' You know how he gets, sometimes... he had _that look_ in his eyes, so Judeau just went along."

"I see." Studying the elven Crusader with true dwarven suspicion, Thirgynn crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "I wonder what he's up to."

"I don't know," Samina mumbled, turning back to watch Judeau resume his position in front of Steelwing. "But I tell you... It's well worth watching. A real display of skill."

After a very brief pause, the miracle-worker gave a strange little snort. "Pheh, it's just because you're watching."

Samina turned to Thirgynn in honest surprise. "What?"

The dwarf shrugged, not trying very hard to hide his amusement.

"It is a well-proven fact that males will try extra hard when a female is present - especially in combat situations."

Samina gave Thirgynn an amused snort as the stout miracle-worker sat down beside her. Throwing an annoyed glance at the neglected campfire, the dwarf muttered a quick incantation that instantly made steam rise from the porridge in the cauldron. Reaching for a bowl, Thirgynn then hesitated for an instant.  
"Except for dwarves," he added with a thoughtful frown. "We always try our hardest."

-  
Judeau had gone from being mildly perplexed at first, to confused, to frustrated, to seriously annoyed, and was now teetering dangerously on the brink of anger.

He held the grey, unreadable gaze of the elven Crusader firmly, resolved not to lose patience and be the first to attack, this time.

_Besides, if I am to do that trick again, I need him to attempt an attack first. _

Damnit! He's playing with me, I know_ he is! But _why?

Steelwing's grey, hard eyes bore unblinking into Judeau's, and for a flash of an instant, it appeared to the scout as though their colour shifted into a very deep and penetrating blue. The seething anger in Judeau's heart bloomed alarmingly, but he still stubbornly refused to make the first move - though he could feel his eyebrows knit together and his jaw clench.

_What is it that you want to prove, Steelwing? That you're better than me? For god's sake, man, I've seen you fight! I know how good you are! _

Why show off like this? Do you really call this sparring? Every time I try to match you, you increase... I could understand if you did this to test my skills or something, but if that's what you're doing then why won't you just tell me so?

Or are you trying to tell me something? That I'm not good enough? Is that it? Are you trying to show me just how easily I can get myself - and anyone else - killed? Well, I knew that before, thank you very much.

Do you want me to realise my limitations? Then, by all means, consider the lesson learned - though I didn't need you to teach me that, believe it or not.

What do you hope to achieve with this? Are you gaining something? Is it just giving you some sort of ridiculous satisfaction to best someone obviously inferior to you?

He never saw it coming. One moment he was standing, body tense, jaw clenched and hands tightly gripping his swords - the next, he was staggering backwards, effectively disarmed, with such a sharp pain shooting through his arm that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. Quickly regaining his balance, Judeau clutched his injured arm tightly, fully expecting warm, sticky blood to seep out between his fingers - but as he stared back at Steelwing in astonishment and pain, he dimly realised that the Crusader had hit him with the flat side of his sword.

"Hey, what the...!" the rest of Judeau's angry outburst caught in his throat. For the first time this morning, there was a trace of emotion in the elf's cold, aristocratic features. And it wasn't triumph, or arrogance - not even a hint of smugness. If anything, the subtle frown held a mildly annoyed disappointment.

Gazing at Judeau along the length of his blade, Steelwing's frown deepened a little.

"Where was your mind just now, Mr Judeau? I could have taken your head off just as easily as your arm. In battle, you must never let your vigilance falter." He relaxed his stance with a subtle shake of his head. "Really, if that is the amount of concentration you apply in combat, it is a miracle that you have survived thus far."

Judeau blinked, feeling an uncomfortable blush strive to reach his face. He fought it off, trying not to sputter:

"Wha-? Hey, Steel- ...you..." He forced himself to pause and take a deep breath, but when he carried on, he couldn't keep his irritation at bay any longer. "This was supposed to be _sparring,_ Steelwing! _Not_ a real duel!"

The elf's frown took on a reprimanding air. "I know, otherwise you would have been dead many times over. But even when I hold back, I never allow myself to lose sight of the seriousness of the situation."

"What seriousness?" Judeau tried to keep his voice at a reasonable level, but it was becoming harder all the time. "What are you _talking_ about? This is not a life-or-death situation! Steelwing, we are just. Training."

"Training for what, Mr Judeau?"

The blond man blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Training for what? For a show of swordplay, or for battles to the death?"

Judeau suddenly got the vivid and unbelievably annoying suspicion that the Crusader had a very valid point in there somewhere, but he was much too agitated to admit that right off. He crossed his arms impatiently over his chest and raised one eyebrow at the tall elf, quietly fuming but ready to listen.

Steelwing nodded, almost imperceptibly, and continued:

"How can one prepare and train for a life like ours, Mr Judeau, if one does not treat every combat situation with the outmost seriousness? How can we be prepared to fight for our lives if we do not intend to do just that, every time we draw a sword?" His eyes hardened raptor-like, and he raised his swords again. "Don't fight like you want to test your techniques. Fight like you intend to kill me."

Judeau let out a huff and turned away from the Crusader, picking his swords up from the ground.

"Are you crazy, Steelwing?" He faced the elf again, demonstratively holding one scimitar up in front of himself. "These are sharp blades! If we fight with the intention to kill each other, we _will!_"

"Certainly not, Mr Judeau," Steelwing said with almost bored confidence, as if explaining something painfully obvious to a petulant child. "I have full confidence in my ability to hold back, and you are not skilful enough to defeat me."

The brazen truth in that statement really stung. So much so that Judeau forgot to think before he spoke, quietly and with more venom than he could reasonably be proud of:

"Oh, really? Maybe you're being just a little bit too sure of yourself, Mr Steelwing."

The elf gave another barely perceptible nod. "That's the right attitude, Mr Judeau. Come at me."

In a flash of hesitation, the scout got a brief but intense suspicion that he had been baited - and swallowed it hook, line and sinker.

_All right. Okay. Fine. If that's what you want, that's what you'll get. No holds barred._

"No," he said quietly, assuming his guard. "_You_ come at _me._"

He got no warning before Steelwing launched at him, but managed to parry and turn the attack. Their exchange of blows waged back and forth for a moment longer, as Judeau struggled to show the Crusader just how much he'd been holding back before - And he felt as though he was finally putting some pressure on Steelwing, right up until...

_Swish - Clang!_

It was over before he knew it, and he found himself stumbling past the elf with empty, smarting hands once again.

He quickly turned around, fighting the childish urge to amend his wounded pride by simply walking up to the Crusader and laying him out flat with one well-placed fist.

Besides, with the way things had been going so far, the one who would most likely end up sprawled out on the ground if he tried that would be _him._

Steelwing, seeming blissfully oblivious to the dark, seething cloud of aggression that surrounded the scout, was nonchalantly sheathing his swords.

"Tell me, Mr Judeau," he asked briskly, "Have you ever had any proper swordsmanship training?"

On the very verge of explosion, Judeau didn't even try to keep his voice light anymore.

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled.

Steelwing calmly looked back at him.

"Have you ever received training from a true Swords' Master?"

Not placated, but temporarily put off, Judeau gave the Crusader a suspicious glare while surreptitiously rubbing his sore palms against each other.

"Depends," he muttered. "I don't know if he would qualify as a 'Swords' Master' to you, but the man who taught me to fight with two swords sure knew his way around blades. He performed with them in the travelling troupe I grew up in, with a precision that I've seen very few people match, ever. And before you say anything about how different it is to be _performing_ with blades and to _fight_ with them," Judeau aggressively added, "The roads we travelled were not exactly safe. There was a war going on and it had been doing so for about a hundred years, so there were always some kind of waylay men - deserters, stray mercenaries, desperate villagers or common bandits - who wanted to part you from your valuables and/or your life. We all had to know how to fight. And Hakeem saved our lives many times over. He more than proved his value in combat."

Steelwing seemed to consider this for a moment, and then nodded agreeably.

"I see. So, how long did you study for this man?"

"'Till I was about thirteen." Judeau turned his back at the Crusader and went to pick up his swords again. "Then I joined the Hawks, where I got more combat training and a lot of practical experience." _How's that, huh? Good enough for you?_

Steelwing's voice, dispassionate as always, froze him in his tracks:

"I will take that as a 'no', then."

Judeau froze and slowly turned around, blinking at the tall elf. His voice sounded surprisingly soft to his own ears:

"...What?"

Steelwing gave him another subtly reprimanding look.

"Well, even if this 'Hakeem' was a real Swords' Master, you could not have had the maturity - physical or mental - to fully benefit from his teachings at that age. Also, though there is a lot to be said for experience, it is not the same as being advised by an experienced teacher." He made a soft, almost snorting noise. "And combat training in an army of mercenaries? Really… I admit I don't know how things were done in your world, but here, that is not very impressive: The swords for hire usually only care to teach their men how to swing a sword without cutting their own heads off. That is hardly true swordsmanship."

Judeau stood perfectly still for a moment - he was smart enough not to make a complete fool of himself by trying to say something smart and sensible when he couldn't even manage a coherent thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a quiet puff of air and resolutely poured a proverbial bucket of cold composure over his inner turbulence.

"Alright, Steelwing," he said, calmly looking up at the tall elf. "I know I am not the best swordsman in the world. What are you getting at? What are you trying to say?"

Steelwing raised one eyebrow and held Judeau's eyes for a while in a silence that seemed more contemplative than anything else.

"I suppose," he said quietly, not a hint of emotion or intention in his features, "That I am trying to say that you could be much better than this."

Judeau calmly pushed his bangs away from his wet forehead, then he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a sardonic eyebrow right back at the Crusader.

"Really? You think so? And I suppose you'd teach me, then?"

"I would be honoured to."

Judeau paused, and blinked.

"Hnh...?"

The elf crossed the distance between them with a stride that was only an attitude away from being a saunter, and gave Judeau a direct, steel-grey look.

"Do you admit that my skill is greater than yours?"

The smouldering resentment threatened to flare up inside Judeau again, but he resolutely smothered it and met Steelwing's eyes without falter.

"I'd be a fool if I didn't," he muttered, "Wouldn't I?"

Steelwing nodded calmly. "Indeed." He paused for a moment as if waiting to see Judeau's reaction. The scout just raised his eyebrows in a gesture for the Crusader to go on, and Steelwing gave another subtle nod, stepping a little bit closer.

"However, Mr Judeau, _that_ is precisely why you will not win. Indeed, you are good. Impressively skilled, in fact - and even more so, considering the training you have received. You have an excellent grip on the basics and you know many high-skilled and unexpected techniques... some of which I think you have taught to yourself. Am I right?"

Judeau nodded cautiously, trying to figure out where Steelwing was going here. The Crusader carried on, never taking his piercing silver eyes off of Judeau's:

"You have the skill, the experience and the ability to improvise necessary to defeat an opponent like me. The only thing that is keeping you from doing so is your attitude. A true Sword's Master must know and master the techniques of the mind as well as those of the sword. To a select few, these techniques come naturally. Others, like myself - and you - can be taught them. You can become a Sword's Master, Mr Judeau. Let me teach you."

Judeau knew that the expression on his face must have looked pretty funny right then, but the sincere seriousness in Steelwing's features did not falter for an instant. Stalling for time, Judeau carefully wiped the sweat off his brow.

"So... you're saying you'll teach me to fight like you... what, out of the goodness of your heart?" He frowned at the Crusader, but this time more uncertainly than angry. "I don't get it. What's in it for you?"

Steelwing's eyebrows dipped downwards. "A companion whose skill I can not only trust, but rely on," he said. "Not to mention that it is the code of the Crusader to not only be a good example to those around him, but to help them improve themselves whenever possible, as well - especially those who accompany him on his quest." He paused for a moment, nodding back towards the campfire. "I have taught Samina what I could, and she will surely agree with me that she is a better warrior for it."

The scar-faced woman huffed, but with a smile, and jabbed her spoon in the general direction of the tall elf, who had not turned to look at her.

"Yeah, sure, but it's not like I was crap before, mind you!"

Steelwing sent a glance over his shoulder at Samina.

"Certainly not. I readily admit that I admire the skill with which you can handle such a clumsy and unwieldy weapon as a mace - I would not do so well with it. But for that very reason-" he continued, returning his attention to Judeau, "-I could not teach her as much as I can you. Fighting with double blades is my forte." The tall Crusader calmly crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you say?"

Judeau dazedly scratched the back of his neck, feeling almost a little uncomfortable under Steelwing's direct, focused and above all else honest gaze. His anger had dissipated, but he wasn't entirely sure of what he was supposed to be feeling in its place.

"I- uh…" The Crusader was good. Very good. _Frighteningly_ good.

Something stirred in the back of his empty mind, a hint of an emotion he didn't really want to put a name on, much less have inside of himself.

But as the moment dragged out between them, with Steelwing's unblinking, unwavering, unreadable eyes boring into his, this restless stirring caused unbidden thoughts to form and surface, almost half-made:

_I was so certain. It felt so obvious... I thought - I _knew_ - that I had reached my limit. That I was as good as I would ever be. _

Could I really be better? Could I possibly be as good as he's suggesting?

Impossible. I'm nowhere near that special. I know my own limits... don't I?

He focused on Steelwing again, intensely studying the sharp, confident features of the elf's face, his stance, his hard eyes. The uncomfortable feeling bloomed out in Judeau's stomach and almost made him want to cringe - but he couldn't.

_He thinks so. He _believes_ it. _

If he believes it... someone like him... I always thought I did my very best...  
Was I...? Could I...?

Could I have been... that skilled - that strong...

...Back then...?

...Back then...

...It really could have made a difference, couldn't it?

A vivid image of dark, tear-filled eyes superimposed itself on his vision, bringing with it the faint, metallic taste of blood to his mouth. He immediately turned away, clenching his eyes shut - forcing the sharply painful memory out of his mind.

With a subtle, deep breath, he composed himself again.

"Yeah." He looked up into Steelwing's silver eyes again, feeling strangely subdued, but resolute. "Yes. Teach me what you can. Please."

Then he managed a concealing and pretty genuine grin and gave the Crusader a little bow with a flourish. "Master."

His reward was seeing Steelwing's left eyebrow twitch downwards in annoyance, or possibly discomfort, when he straightened up again.

"There is no need for that."

Judeau snickered lightly, gazing at the Crusader along the edge of his scimitar, half-pretending to search the blade for chinks.

"So now you're humble, all of a sudden. Where did that come from?"

Steelwing gave him a brief look, then turned away and briskly walked over to where their discarded shirts lay. He returned, tossing Judeau his tunic and scabbards.

"We will begin your training this evening," the tall elf stated. "Now, we need to eat and get ready to move on."

"Right." Judeau sheathed his swords. Steelwing's voice dropped to an almost thoughtful murmur:

"In the meantime, Mr Judeau, you can consider what it is that you want out of this training."

The blond scout looked up but Steelwing had turned his back and was pulling his sleeveless undershirt over his head.

"Uh... huh." Judeau said, nurturing the nagging suspicion that - again - he should already know what the Crusader meant, but he had too often been surprised, lately, to confidently dare a guess. "Okay. Sure."

Steelwing fell in beside him as they walked down the hill, towards the camp where Samina and Thirgynn's quiet conversation had just been interrupted by Taskkarr. The demon hunter came trudging out of the tent, grouchily scratching his stubbled chin and yawning widely enough to compete with the murvelbeasts, demanding breakfast, which he got, and beer, which he didn't – since there wasn't any to be had.

Judeau was almost startled to hear Steelwing's calm, silent voice in his ear when they'd gotten half way back:

"I do not know how human Sword's Masters teach, so I must refer to the way I was taught. An elf never becomes a true fighting Sword's Master - or a Crusader - if they do not fight for a _purpose._"

The last word was spoken with such unexpected intensity that Judeau couldn't help turning to stare at the elf, but Steelwing's face - even this up close - betrayed nothing. He met Judeau's eyes with impeccable blankness, one that was fully mirrored in his voice as he continued:

"Find your purpose, Mr Judeau. This is the first step."

--

Reviewer Responses (Love you all! I hope you've stuck around for this):  
Kara-sama: I was worried for the briefest of moments, there, but it seems like the odd characters you experienced was only temporary. I'm glad you liked it anyway!  
Azrael: (squirms and blushes and bows deeply) Thank you very much! I'm so glad you find this story so interesting, and also thank you for thouroughly boosting my ego. That's neccessary, sometimes. ;)  
DarkFusion: I'm not gonna tell you. ;) You'll just have to stick around and see! (If you can have patience with my updating slowness, that is...)  
Lizalou42: "Hopping" is not a swearword in this world, Samina is just having a bit of a fix idea about strong language... I might include something on that in later chapters. Cool of you to notice, though!  
iunno1: Thank you and I hope you're still as eager to read...  
Sony: Thank you for your support!  
Drachen: Ah! Drachen-sama! (bows) I'm glad you're being entertained (we aim to please), and I hope you liked this chapter a little better - with the extra Steelwing and all... ;)  
billyd: Yes, there will be more. As long as you'll have patience with me... (sweats)  
Gorgonzola: Ai, my friend! I am a thousand times sorry for the lack of dwarves in this chapter! I meant for them to come to the dwarf hold in ths chapter, but my mean, evil muses wouldn't let me! (points) It's all THEIR fault!  
nada: My plotbunnies thank you. Please forgive my tardiness. (bows)  
Thor: Shut up and go back to bed you tiny, not-at-all-taller-than-me, little bugger! Just kidding... thank you for reviewing!  
RisuMusume: I AGREE! He is SHAMEFULLY underappreciated!! (whips out sign reading: "More love for Judeau" and starts parading it around)  
Bengali: You read my fanfic before you knew the end of the anime?? Oh, I hate spoiling stuff for people... ah, well, read the manga anyway: It kicks ass in so unbelievably many ways! You won't regret it!  
Tali1: Thank you for your comment, I will definitely look into that in the ongoing Big Editing. (bows)  
magical-flyingdragon: Nooo... not "Dungeons and Dragons", Just a bit more High Fantasy than the original Berserk world. Thank you for your enthusiastic comments! You are more than welcome to leave more, if you wish... ;)


	16. Interlude: Wings of Steel

Standard disclaimers apply. "Short" interlude between your regular installments - it was a bit of a challenge to write, but I hope you enjoy it. I rather like how it turned out, actually.

(Sorry it took a lot longer than I would have thought. Real Life got me down... big time.)

* * *

Interlude: Wings of Steel

Judeau took a deep breath and calmly let it out, noting with some surprise that it didn't form a little cloud before his face. The pale grey pre-dawn light made the endless, rolling plains all around look so barren and cold - as if the silvery frost was more than just a subtle threat in the air.

But that threat was still chilly enough to invigorate Judeau's sleep-heavy body, and he flexed his joints in anticipation. After riding hard for days - starting early and stopping late with few and short pauses in between - and getting up even earlier today, he felt a little bit stiffer than he would have preferred for his first lesson with the Crusader.

On the other hand, he had worked under worse conditions in the past. That wasn't really what he was feeling apprehensive about.

He looked over at Steelwing who, after having prodded the scout awake, had withdrawn to sit before the cooking-fire, and was now slowly stirring the small cauldron with a wooden spoon. Judeau paused for a brief moment, then walked over to sit down next to him, trying to study the Crusader's unexpressive face.

"So... Good morning, Steelwing. I thought we were going to train?"

Steelwing nodded, without looking up. His voice was as dispassionately flat as always:

"We are. But we must eat first: An empty stomach makes learning difficult."

"Okay." Judeau gave the elf a slightly confused look. "But yesterday..."

"Yesterday I was testing you, not teaching you. The added stress of hunger worked in my favour."

Judeau felt his eyebrows twitch at that. _Well, thanks for being so straightforward about it, I guess..._

Steelwing did not look away from the little cauldron, but after a while he spoke again.

"So, do you remember our little conversation yesterday, Mr Judeau?"

"Yes."

"And have you found your purpose?"

"...Yes. I believe so."

"Good." Steelwing finally took his eyes off of their gently simmering breakfast, but only to feed the fire another log. "Make sure to always keep it clearly in your mind, but do not tell me about it. Some Sword's Masters prefer to know so that they can better help to motivate their students, but I do not. I feel that a student who can not motivate himself is not true Sword's Master material, and will not be able to learn regardless. It may seem harsh, but that is my way."

"No, that's okay, I understand."

Judeau was actually feeling a little relieved - he wasn't too sure that he would have been able to put his reasons into words if the Crusader had asked him to.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the small flames and the slow, calculated movements of the wooden spoon through the watery mush. Judeau's stomach finally seemed to realise that he had woken up, and subtly reminded him of its needs. In instinctive response, the scout took a strip of dried meat from the opened bag of provisions and chewed it thoughtfully as he waited for better sustenance.

When the Crusader was finally satisfied with the state of the porridge, he served both Judeau and himself before speaking again.

"This training," he began, "Will focus mainly on the mental aspects of sword mastery. Your physical skills are more than adequate, and any further such training will come more or less automatically as we practise. This is how we are going to do this: First I will tell you what I want you to learn - and I recommend you to ask every question you can think of so that I know that you have fully understood. Then we spar and train until you feel you have a basic grasp of the technique, and then we will move on to the next lesson - but you will continue to implement the things you've already learnt until you no longer have to think about doing it. Do you understand this?"

Judeau nodded, quickly swallowing a mouthful of hot porridge and almost burning his tongue on it.

"Ho!" He coughed, but quickly recovered. "Yes, I'm with you. I understand."

Steelwing merely raised an eyebrow, possibly in annoyance, at the gasping scout before continuing:

"Good. I do not wish to explain such a basic thing again." Then the Crusader paused and looked down into his own warm gruel in thoughtful concentration, as if going over something with himself.

"All right," he finally said - slowly and carefully, as if still pondering which words to use. "I will tell you about the two first techniques right now. Two at once, because they are of equal importance and you must learn them both at the same time - and you will learn about them now because they must be the first and last things you ever learn, if you are to become a Sword's Master. I will teach you many things, Mr Judeau, but none as important as these two. You must have a true understanding of them both if you are to fully benefit from any of the techniques I will teach you. Everything else stands and falls with this. Are you... clear with this?"

Judeau, moved by Steelwing's seriousness, just nodded. The Crusader dipped his chin in an ever-so-slight nod of approval.

"Very well then. These two can be called _insight_ and _acceptance_. I will now explain them, so listen carefully."

He paused again, looking down into his bowl with the slightest thoughtful frown on his face. Judeau took another mouthful of porridge as he waited.

"Your _insight_," the Crusader began, "must be into your opponent as well as yourself, and it must be this: There is no such thing as perfection. Do compare your skills, and do recognise that he might be faster, stronger or more experienced than you, but never admit that he is _better_ than you. This thought will paralyse you, cripple you, and you will lose - simply because you_ expect_ to."

Steelwing paused for a moment, and Judeau found himself listening intently. This was something he had heard before, but with the cold seriousness that the Crusader had instilled in it, it was suddenly making sense in a completely new way. Seemingly unaware of the attentive silence, Steelwing continued.

"Focus instead on finding his weaknesses. Everyone has them, including myself - and there is no doubt in my mind that even mighty Sword's Master Variol or Anders Silverblade the saint had theirs. There is no perfect technique, no flawless weapon-wielder." Steelwing cut himself off and seemed to consider something for an instant.

"The only possible exception would be if Thyr himself stepped down into the world, but frankly I doubt it. It is simply not possible for anyone to be perfect in every move, every turn of battle. Find your opponent's flaws and exploit them without mercy. He will try to find yours."

"I get that," Judeau interrupted - he couldn't help himself. "And the second part of this _insight_ is about being aware of my own flaws and trying to cover or compensate for them, right? But isn't that kind of what all sword fighting is about? 'Take the other guy down as fast and effectively as possible and don't let him get to you?'"

Not in the least perturbed by the interruption, Steelwing nodded solemnly.

"Indeed it is. But most people still need training in this, the most obvious of things. They assume that they know and understand it when in fact they do not - It is remarkably often that a failure of _insight_ is what brings about the end of an experienced fighter, who really should know better. You are no exception, Mr Judeau."

Judeau raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, but the Crusader calmly took a mouthful of porridge and ate without haste. Certain that he would get an explanation eventually, Judeau clamped down on any impatience and ate some more as well.

Finally, Steelwing turned to face the scout again.

"One of your flaws, which I have exploited myself, is your tendency to admit weakness. If you find someone to be superior to you in any way, you rather instinctively assume a subordinate position to him. If you are to improve in any way you need to achieve awareness of and stop that kind of behaviour: Treat every opponent neither as your superior nor your peer, but as your inferior. Find their flaws. Go into every battle thinking that you _can_ and _will_ win - But you must do _that_ without getting cocky and underestimating your adversary instead. That is a difficult balance, but if you do not achieve it you will never become a Sword's Master, and you will die by your own weakness."

Judeau found himself locked in an internal struggle. He wanted to protest, to tell the Crusader that he had the wrong idea there, but something was holding him back. He knew that if he was to gain the level of skill that he wanted, he had to listen to Steelwing and take his advice to heart... and if he thought really honestly about it, the elf's description of this major and quite possibly lethal character flaw hit uncomfortably close to home.

_My god... have I really been doing that, all this time? Could it be possible?_

He wished it hadn't felt so true. Steelwing was watching him closely, almost interestedly, as pride fought with honesty, and Judeau couldn't help but wonder irritably just what the elf was hoping to see.

Then it hit him, like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky: He was doing it even now!

Steelwing's distanced attitude, his regal bearing, the slight but undeniable physical resemblance to Griffith, even the strangely overarticulated way he spoke - it all served to create an impression of superiority in Judeau's mind. He realised that he had constantly been reacting to Steelwing as if the Crusader had treated him like a subordinate, someone of less worth - and if he really thought about it, he couldn't honestly say that that impression was justified.

So that was the real source of this vague aggression he'd felt towards Steelwing. But none of it had been the elf's doing: It was all in his own head!

_Man,_ he thought as the insight swept through him with dizzying clarity, _I had no idea. And here I thought I knew myself!_

Steelwing's eyes gained an expectant glint as the scout's features changed in surprise and realization, and when Judeau finally managed an almost breathless "I see," they finally showed the first unmistakable hint of a smile that Judeau had ever seen in the Crusader. Only a moment ago, he might have interpreted this as a hint of a condescending attitude, but now he could clearly see that there was nothing like that in the steel-grey eyes. Rather, they held a distanced but honest kind of appreciation and respect. If anything, Steelwing actually seemed to _like_ Judeau - albeit in his own reserved way.

With that not saying that he probably wouldn't hold true to his promise and kill the scout if it would come to that, but somehow, that was easier to accept now.

Judeau felt a slightly self-conscious smile tug at the corners of his mouth as a previously unseen layer of the Crusader's personality unfurled before him.

_I have misjudged him._

"Thank you," he said simply, letting the smile spread out over his face. "I'll work on that."

"Good," the Crusader replied. "You need to."

Judeau just grinned, turning some of his attention back to his breakfast.

"So how about _acceptance?"_ he ventured, "Or are we not yet done with _insight?_"

"I think you have grasped the basic concept... but we are far from _done_ with it. Now begins the difficult part of actually learning it, and that will have to take the time and the repetition that it must. But yes, let us move on to _acceptance._"

Something seemed to harden in the Crusader's eyes as he thoughtfully gazed into the fire again, and his brows crept downwards.

"It is very natural," he began quietly, "To fear death. It is an instinct that is hard to overcome, but in order to become truly proficient, truly fearsome in battle, it nonetheless must be done. Your _acceptance_ must be that of your own possible demise."

Judeau blinked, not sure he'd heard the Crusader right.

"What?"

Steelwing turned his cold, piercing raptor gaze on the scout, and Judeau almost shivered. The remorseless killer Steelwing was back in full, without any of the tentative warmth and humanity that he had appeared to have only a few moments ago. Deadly serious indeed.

"As long as you fear death, you will not be using your full potential. You will hold back, overthink your moves, miss opportunities."

"Wait, hold on there for just a minute," Judeau interrupted, "Are you seriously saying that I should try to give up all thoughts of self-preservation?"

"Yes." Before Judeau could reply, the Crusader had regained his calm, tutorial air and continued: "All _thoughts_ thereof, that is. What I want you to do is to let go of conscious thought and trust your _instincts_ to guide you in battle. Surely, you have had enough experience and exercise to know what to do in as good as any given situation - without thinking it through first?"

Judeau frowned. "Yeah, my instincts are well trained... I already _do_ that."

Steelwing shook his head with a little sigh.

"No, Mr Judeau, you do not. You have simply learnt to think very fast. Impressively fast, granted, but still nowhere near the speed of your instincts. As long as you _think_ about each move, you will not reach the potential you are capable of. Consider it: your skills have been honed by years of experience, warfare and training – your body _knows_ what to do, you just have to learn to trust it. And, like I said, the instinct to preserve your own life is probably the strongest one of all. Once you have let go of your life, you will notice how hard it is to actually lose it. Besides," he added with a dismissive shrug, "Once you have achieved the speed of your instincts, you will often be able to incapacitate your opponent before he can even touch you."

Judeau frowned again, thinking it all through.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'm still not too clear on how this is the same as accepting death."

Steelwing turned to him with eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise.

"No? Alright then... It is about fear." He made another brief pause. "To enter battle is to put your life at risk. Anyone knows this, and the unquenchable instinct to preserve one's own life incites a natural fear of the inevitable. But it _is_ inevitable. Those who walk the path of the warrior have Death walking in their shadows, and can feel His breath on their necks. There is no way to escape Him, but once you enter combat, you _challenge_ Him – And do not imagine anything else. Frightening? Of course it is, but fear is the most compelling emotion we have, and it distorts our senses - makes us act irrationally, or not act at all when we should."

He paused again, directing a thoughtful gaze towards the brightening sky.

"We do not want to die, so we do not wish to even accept the possibility that it could happen, no matter how obvious it is, because we irrationally fear that doing so will somehow call His attention. That if we accept death, it will find us. But that is not true. Accept that death will come, because it will, maybe... no, _probably_ in this battle. If not, in the next. Or the next. Accept His presence and respect Him. Accept that the worst thing that could ever happen _will_ happen, and have no fear. He will collect you when He so chooses, and when he does there will be nothing you can do to stop him. That decision is not yours to make. Have no fear, for fear is far more likely to end you than to protect you. With _acceptance_ - of your mortality, your flaws and your weaknesses - you will not fear any more. Your head will be clearer, your instincts unobstructed. And," he added with an almost amused tint to his voice:

"It will give you a real edge against your opponent. The absence of fear in your eyes and movements will be interpreted as confidence, and that tie in with _insight_ again: Your opponent might well assume that you have reason to be confident and become wary - or frightened. Do you understand now?"

And Judeau actually found that he did. It stirred some kind of memory, but nothing he could really put his finger on right away. Frowning thoughtfully, he nodded.

"Yeah... 'Nothing to fear but fear itself.' I have no reason to fear the inevitable, and no fear means I've got the upper hand in battle... and... That I will be more in control of the situation... and myself - isn't that right?"

Steelwing bowed his head in graceful approval.

"Very good, Mr Judeau. Indeed. And do you understand how these two techniques fit together?"

"I think so. To _accept_ my mortality is to have _insight_ into myself and into combat, and that _insight_ is something I must _accept_... Eh."

"Precisely. It works both ways and forms a constructive cycle. Once you have not only understood but achieved this cycle within yourself, you will have become a true Sword's Master."

Judeau almost laughed, but put his hands behind his head and stretched with an amused half-snicker instead.

"What, that's really all there is to it?" he said jokingly. Steelwing leisurely got up before answering, as utterly serious as always:

"Basically, yes. Everything else is just effectivisation. Now come, it is time for your first lesson: making your everyday stance into your combat stance, and vice versa."

Judeau blinked, his jaw falling open. "Wha...? But... but I thought... I thought _this_ was the first lesson!"

Steelwing gave him a stern frown. "Then you have not been paying attention. _Acceptance_ and _insight_ is not the first lesson - it is the _one_ lesson. And it will take a lot more practical experience, with real combat, for you to come even close to fully realising what you have to do to achieve it. Now get up and come with me."

Judeau blinked a few more times, then got up with a defeated sigh. "Oye..."

But as he half-ran to catch up with the Crusader, he found himself with a determined smile on his face. He did have a purpose and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to go through with this. From what he had gathered about Steelwing, it was probably going to be both intense and difficult, but... it was getting interesting. Interesting in a very good way.

And then, it hit him - the flash of memory that had stirred in the back of his mind, earlier. Gatts. The way he always fought, the look in his eyes... could _that_ have been _acceptance_? He had been beyond formidable in battle - could it have had something to do with this very Sword's Master technique?

Judeau briefly wondered if Gatts had had anyone teach it to him, but pushed further thoughts of the past out of his mind as the training session began.

_If I ever get back, I'll ask him._

* * *

Reviewer Responses: (Buckets of love for all of you!)  
DarkFusion: There you have a taste of what poor Judeau will have to go through at the hands of Steelwing. Hope you like! Thanks for waiting!  
lizalou42: (Big smile) Yeah, I've seen Wolf's Rain (Beauuuutiful!), but the funny part is that I wrote all about the dogs before I even knew that thatanime existed! I was a little surprised... But Paw and co. don't have "human shapes". It's really just Shammael being unimaginative when it comes to names. As for the hints, I'm very glad that I can drive you nuts. For the "hormonal" comments, I stick my tongue out at thee, but you get a cuddly hug for the pro-authoress plug. More Taskkarr to come!  
Merina: See? It'll work out... (sweatdrop) ...I hope. Thanks for sticking around!  
Brother Angelon: Thank you, that was what I was trying to achieve with this fic. Hope you'll enjoy it as it progresses as well... we're getting to the Main Plot soon! (sweatdrop)  
RisuMusume: Hey Sweets, I hope you haven't given up on me... I haven't given up on you. Judeau-fangirls need to support each other! Write your story! Please?  
Arashi: I love you so much - please give me more long comments and CC! I hope I've managed to up the story's quality a bit in the Big Editing... and I am so so so glad that I managed to avoid all those nasty traps you mentioned - I'd been worrying about them myself. Yeah, when writing Fanfiction, you need to be extra careful indeed.  
Azrael: No problem at all! That you reviewed _at all_ is enough for me. Look at this happy face! (And where would I be if I scolded _others_ for being slow... Eh-heh...) I'm glad you're still enjoying! Please tell me right away if that changes!  
Drachen: Eh-heh-heh... No, I have still not died... I am so sorry that it takes me so long, but this story is just too imprtant to me to allow myself to rush it! I'll get right on the next one! I promise! (...gets distracted by shiny object.) ...and thanks for commenting. :)  
Bengali: Really? (exhales) Good, good. And I'mglad you liked it. Samina acts for all of us, I believe (grins)... There'll be lots more action in the next chapter, i assure you (Knowing, secretive grin). Thanks for reading and commenting!  
Uli: One of the things that makes me so happy about writing this story is that Ipull so many Judeau-fans out of the woodworks! Thank you for your comments, and for enjoying! And the dwarves are neither LotR nor C.S. Lewis dwarves, they're MY dwarves! (Is proud)  
Sentention: Ooh, those books sound interesting. Thanks for the tip! And thank you for enjoying! ...I hope you don't hate me TOO much, though... (sweatdrop)  
Jula: (bows and scrapes) Sorry, sorry... I always take long time writing... I sorry. But thank you so very much for your support and don't hate Kentaro Miura - without him I might never have started writing seriously at all!  
mirrored-gaze: Hey, we have a problem. I didn't get your email - I don't know if it was that screwed it up or if it was something else, but here's the tip I meant to give you: thehawks(dot)org-That's where I got mine.  
mechaghost: And here it is! Thank you for reading and commenting!  
Pissy Abyssinian: I'm _so_ happy that you like this fic so much! Makes me all warm and cuddly inside. Whee! Thank you for your lovely comments and your patience, and I do hope to hear from you again. (Another Steelwing fan... who'd'a' thunk it.)  
tenshi no baka: Props for the hairstyle. I hope your wait was not too long. Judeau rules. Peace! ;) 


	17. First Snow, Same Old Blood

As usual, I do not own anything pertaining to the anime or manga "Berserk" and I sincerely hope I am not letting Kentaro Miura starve by leeching off of his genius like this.

Alright, now the story is really getting somewhere. My undying gratitude goes out to all of you who have stuck with me all this time: Your patience is divine.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: First Snow, Same Old Blood

The biggest change for Judeau, after leaving the Healer, turned out to be the nights. His nightmares grew more intense again, and some nights they brought friends: He would wake up in a panicked, cold sweat in the most ungodly hour of the night with the demonic brand stinging in his palm, and he soon learnt that when the mark on his hand hurt, it meant that some evil spirit had gotten wind of him and was coming for his blood. The more dangerous the creature or the more of them there were, the worse the pain would become. A welcome, if slightly perplexing, warning function of the magical rune. Thirgynn theorized that it was to tease the demons' or dark spirits' appetite by making Judeau suffer more, but admitted that he had no way of knowing for sure.

Apparently fully prepared for this from the very beginning, however, Thirgynn quickly made it a habit to set up protective runes around the camp as they settled, and whatever these did it seemed to be enough to neutralise the weakest apparitions. However, there were some that had to be dealt with violently - and on those nights everyone slept poorly.

The creatures that the brand attracted seemed mostly to be different kinds of ghosts - at least, that was what his companions referred to them as. Often pale blue, glowing, vaguely humanoid shapes like the ones that had attacked him and Samina the night that the brand had reappeared, but not always. One kind were mere wisps of greenish light that contented themselves with hovering tentatively at the edge of the magical rune-barrier (Samina called them Jack-o'-lanterns, Taskkarr called them pathetic), another kind crept through the same with bodies that looked almost tangible: Human-like creatures shaped out of what most resembled soot-black smoke, with only two brightly blue lights burning where the eyes should be (Ghasts, apparently). And once, on a particularly busy night, a well-decayed, walking corpse bumbled clumsily into their camp and almost managed to get its hands around Judeau's neck before Steelwing could stab Helios deep into the rotten creature. The resulting wet, foul-smelling explosion, right in his face, served as nightmare-fodder for Judeau for a few weeks afterwards.

But however frightening, none of these nightly haunts were in any way a match for his companions, and once Thirgynn started putting temporary runes on Judeau's and Samina's weapons each night, even less so ("Only to make them magical, you know, so they can affect the ghosts. Don't expect them to cleave boulders."). Also, regardless of how difficult a night had been it was never even enough to slow them down.

Nonetheless, Judeau was starting to feel very uneasy around nightfall.

Not that he didn't sleep like a log on the nights when there were no supernatural disturbances: Between Steelwing's rigorous and relentless training, and the forced pace that the dwarves insisted on keeping, he was far too exhausted not to. So, all things considered, it wasn't really surprising that he completely lost track of time. He did notice that it slowly got colder, and according to what he learned from Samina, whom he often talked to during the travelling hours, though they _were_ heading towards colder regions the changing climate was really a lot more about the shift of seasons than their geographical position.

His companions also changed - even if the dwarves did so far more noticeably than the elf. Taskkarr and Thirgynn both grew thick, impressive beards at a speed which was nothing short of unbelievable, but whereas Taskkarr let his coarse, reddish-brown tangle grow free and completely unkempt (though when it reached down to the lower part of his ribcage, it somehow seemed to stop growing of it's own volition), Thirgynn showed a decidedly more coquettish behaviour when it came to grooming: The miracle-worker kept his chalk-white beard carefully cropped pretty close to the chin (and it still displayed an enviable thickness), and meticulously combed back his equally chalk-white hair with an odd-smelling paste, that he mixed up himself from ingredients purchased in one of the larger villages they had briefly passed. Taskkarr kept his head shaved - a daily grooming exercise that almost took as long as Thirgynn's.

It took longer to notice any change in Steelwing, but as the shade on his head slowly became less and less like stubble (the elf appeared to have no facial hair at all - at least Judeau never saw him shave), Judeau realised to his surprise that the Crusader's hair came out as silver-coloured. Not grey, not white, but _silver_ with a distinctly metallic sheen. If it hadn't been so fine and flighty, it would almost have looked like an extra helmet.

The season changed, his comrades changed, and maybe he himself changed a little as well, but their firmly east-by-north eastern course never did. And one day, just the same day that the first snow fell onto its mighty slopes, they reached the towering mountain chain in which the dwarves, apparently, made their home.

o  
Judeau leaned back a little in the saddle and closed his eyes, turning his face to the sky. When he opened them again there was only white-grey nothingness before him, sprinkled with small, fluffy dots that looked dark grey against the brightness of the sky. Judeau smiled, exhaled and let go of the tension in his shoulders. Knowing how to create these little bubbles of privacy whenever the opportunity presented itself was a skill that had kept him sane through many an arduous campaign, and what better opportunity could there be?

There was just something so irresistibly pensive about the first snowfall. It would almost feel like sacrilege not to succumb to this cool, gentle pull on his mind and float out into this white stillness…

He closed his eyes again as one of the fluffy dots came floating down a little too close to his face, and he felt it land like a soft whisper on the side of his nose. Then it started to tickle and he brushed it off, straightening up again as he did so.

The bubble prevailed. Still with that nice, mildly wistful calm inside of him, Judeau leisurely let his gaze wander over his surroundings. The plains had long ago given way to forest and the forest had given way to hills, and the hills had gradually become the mountains they had been using for landmark – and now it was with some trepidation that they were slowly making their way up the craggy mountainside.

Not that the murvels were having any trouble navigating the narrow path - the huge bear-dog-rams plodded along on padded paws just as easily as they had on the open road. Packer and Steelwing's elfhorse, Vistari, had it a bit worse and were starting to fall behind. There had been a short debate (Samina's initiative) on whether to take the long way around and spare the horses, but Taskkarr had realised that this would delay them by a whole day and had fervently opposed the idea. If Judeau had needed any more convincing of the urgency the dwarves felt towards going home and restoring their honour, that heartfelt tirade would have done the trick for sure.

But now the two dwarves seemed to have reverted into concentrated silence. Leading the way up the mountainside, Thirgynn slightly behind Taskkarr, the stout little men seemed almost to communicate through telepathy as they navigated each indiscernible turn and slope without exchanging so much as a glance - but Judeau admitted to himself that it was far more probable that they were tracing a path intimately familiar to them both.

Steelwing rode last and Judeau could hear by the irregular, soft footfalls that the long-legged elfhorse was slowly losing ground to the rest of them. He wondered how long it would take for the Crusader to give in and ask the group to dismount. If he didn't, Judeau might just have to - although Packer was doing a bit better as far as climbing was concerned. For now, though, the scout decided to wait and see. Maybe Steelwing knew something about the path ahead of them that he didn't.

Just ahead of Judeau rode Samina, looking surprisingly broad-shouldered and just a little bit funny in her thick bear fur coat (at least he assumed it was bear) against the cream white and equally shaggy murvel she was riding. It almost looked like the poor beast had sprouted a strange, brownish-black appendage on its back - if it hadn't been for the smooth, brown leather of the saddle that separated the two.

_Maybe it's murvel-fur,_ Judeau idly thought to himself, brushing away another snowflake that had landed on his cheek.

The female bounty hunter seemed to have been caught up in the tranquil, contemplative mood of the snowfall as well: Leaving Kariss to leisurely follow his fellow murvels, she gazed off to the side, out at the slowly whitening mountainside and the barely discernible landscape below. She didn't seem so scared of the height now – though, admittedly, it was far less steep and acute here than it had been in the Great City – and Judeau even thought he saw his own wistful smile mirrored on the pale, scarred face.

Judeau closed his eyes again and took another slow, deep breath of the crisp mountain air. It was a good day to be alive.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Taskkarr and Thirgynn make a quick, impossible turn and disappear right into the mountain wall. Samina soon followed, and still Judeau couldn't see the cleft until he was right beside it. It wasn't very wide, just about enough to let two murvelbeasts pass side by side, if their handlers were careful and not in a hurry. The cliffs rose up steep and forbidding on both sides, preventing almost all the snow to reach the remarkably smooth and even floor. Just a little too convenient - Judeau strongly suspected that they were getting very close to the dwarf hold now.

Then, only about a stone's throw into the narrow pass, both dwarves suddenly stopped, Samina and Judeau coming to a surprised halt behind them.

"Taskkarr? What's wrong?" Concern and a hint of annoyance shone through in Samina's voice as she reined her beast in.

"We should have been hailed by now."

Taskkarr's voice was quiet and calm, but had a certain quality to it that effectively popped Judeau's bubble of tranquillity - the shade of apprehension.

Suddenly the passageway seemed a lot more narrow, not so much sheltering as entrapping. The entire group fell silent and an air of intense watchfulness immediately surrounded them. Judeau glanced upwards at what he could see of the bright grey sky, and the jagged cliffs that cut it off from further view. They really were terribly vulnerable here - just a few crossbowmen or, for that matter, a couple of good, old-fashioned boulders would put a swift and sad end to them all.

He realised he was holding his breath and exhaled carefully, soundlessly. The gentle scraping as the elfhorse uneasily shifted position behind him rung through the tense silence and multiplied eerily between the stone walls. After a brief moment the scout thought he heard an irregular, whooshing sound, and soon realised that it was Thirgynn who was sniffing at the air.

"Do you smell that?" Taskkarr's deep voice was a grimly quiet rumble.

"Trolls," Thirgynn replied, equally subdued. "And blood." He shifted uneasily in his seat, then turned towards the demon hunter. "It's very faint, though... It doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe we haven't been hailed yet simply because they haven't identified us yet... It _could_ be so."

Taskkarr's only reply was a semi-affirmative grunt.

After a brief moment, Samina shook her head. "I hate to say this, guys, but I've got a really bad feeling about this."

"I can hear..."

Whatever it was that Steelwing could hear, it, along with the rest of his words, was completely drowned out by the sudden, powerful blast of a horn. Packer snorted and shied, as did the elfhorse, and even the murvels seemed startled. At first the sound appeared to come from all around them, but as it wore on and on - and Judeau's heart slowed down a little - he realised that it was actually coming from further up ahead. And quite some ways, at that.

"No..." Taskkarr sat stiffly upright in his saddle, staring ahead with wild, unseeing eyes. His horrified whisper rose to a howl as he dug his heels into the sides of the black beast and set off towards the sound at top speed. _"Noooooo!"_

Thirgynn was after him in the next instant, bending low over the neck of his grey beast to reduce wind resistance - or to be able to hold on more tightly.

"Yah!" Samina managed to stay in the saddle as Kariss took an unexpected leap after his running comrades the moment she gave the command. Before Judeau had had a chance to gather his wits Steelwing blasted past him in a flash of silver and had left even Samina behind when the scout - only a moment later - dug his heels into Packer's sides and took off after them.

The pony was a bit faster than the murvelbeast, so when Judeau caught up with Samina he allowed Packer to slow down a little – keeping in pace with the bounty-hunter.

"What's going on?" He shouted to be heard over the clatter of his own horse's hooves, magnified against the stone walls. Samina turned to look at him, her jaw set in decisiveness and her eyes radiating apprehension.

"That sound," she shouted back, "Was the call of _Oothark'han_, the great dwarven war horn. Hearing it here, now, can mean nothing but bad news!"

"War horn?" Judeau leaned out a bit closer to Samina. "Like what? What could it mean?"

She gave him a look that confirmed all of his fears.

"You're a soldier, Judeau. What do you _think_ it means?"

After a brief silence, the scout spoke up again - this time without taking his eyes off the road. "Samina, we're heading right into it, aren't we?"

"Yeah," she conceded, sounding a bit strained. "Pretty much. Listen, Judeau, I know it's not the brightest idea to go rushing into a situation like this where we don't know anything about the danger except that it's acute and serious, but we are a _team_ and I, for one, will not let Taskkarr and Thirgynn ride into this whatever-it-might-be all alone. 'Sides, it's easier to get a grasp of the situation once we're out of this passage…"

"Yeah, okay, I follow," Judeau interrupted, "It's just that… I think I already have a clue as to what's waiting up ahead."

Samina shot him a confused glance. "What?"

Judeau felt his face harden into a serious frown. "My hand hurts."

She said nothing more, but Judeau thought he felt their mutual speed increase, just a little. He wasn't too keen on getting closer to the source of the malignant presence that made the brand in his palm sting like this – and it just kept getting worse – but he knew only too well that his best chance of survival in a situation like this was to stick as closely to his non-human companions as possible. And they were up ahead of him, very decisively heading straight into the lair of the beast – so to speak. As he had done so many times before in his life, Judeau resigned to stick close to those who might be able to hold his back, and make the best out of the situation as soon as he had a decent grasp of it.

He had no idea of just how grim that situation would turn out to be.

They burst out of the cleft like bats out of hell, but came to an astonished halt as the sheer enormity of the scene before them literally knocked the air from their lungs. Before them laid a huge, open space between jagged mountaintops, like a titanic basin. Far off to their left the stone wall opened up like a wound around what must once have been an enormous and impressive gate - one of the mighty metal doors that had fitted in it still hung there, bent and disfigured far beyond what should be possible for such thick metal.

Before the ruined gate, pretty much covering the bottom of the basin, laid the remains of a small town that had been as burnt and ravaged as a battlefield. And a battlefield was precisely what it was.

From the open wound in the mountain poured an endless onslaught of stout, bearded warriors, some mounted on murvelbeasts, some clinging to terrifying, armoured machinery that almost seemed to move on its own. What they met was a tidal wave of very mixed creatures, most of which had two arms and two legs. There were small, greenish-black critters that swarmed the dwarves in packs, larger humanoids with heavy armour that were just a little bit too broad and beast-like to be properly human, and huge, lumbering, horribly human-like monsters that moved through the chaos like horses through a hayfield, as well as a variety of other more or less human creatures, all mixed together in the blood-soaked melting pot of the battlefield.

Judeau could not, however, immediately see anything resembling the creatures he was expecting to see. Judging by the searing pain shooting out into his fingers and up towards his elbow from his branded hand, they were definitely there, but the very same pain also made it difficult to concentrate on anything but immediate impressions. He found himself shaking his hand as if trying to cool off a burn.

He couldn't help noticing the smell, though - as always, it assaulted his nose without fail. The universal stench of the battlefield: Smoke and blood.

After an instant of this shocked silence, Taskkarr let out another howl of equal parts despair and rage in unintelligible Dwarfish – but it was actually Thirgynn who took off towards the ruined gate first, Taskkarr and Steelwing soon in hot pursuit.

"Hey!" Judeau called after them, "What are you doing! Come back!"

"No, they're right," Samina interrupted, "We have to get in there, and we have to do it now, while the battle wages. Come on!"

At that moment, the authoritative tone of her voice was so exactly like Caska's that Judeau almost instinctively fell in behind her. Then, as they cleared the little slope and entered the outskirts of the savaged town, he found himself and rode up beside the bounty hunter, leaning over to shout - this time to make himself heard over the sounds of battle:

"Why? You've got an explanation as to why we're throwing ourselves headlong into a war zone?"

She didn't look back at him and for a moment he thought she wouldn't answer, but she did:

"Because of your curse and... because I recognise those banners! Trust me - if they weren't busy fighting right now, you wouldn't stand a chance! Neither of us would!"

"What? What are you saying?"

"I can tell that you're _really_ feeling your curse now, and frankly I wouldn't be surprised if there were both demons _and _undead here - dark elves love to use that kind of creatures in war."

"_What_ elves?"

"Dark elves! Sick, twisted creatures, and utterly ruthless. They'd be _thrilled_ to let their monsters hunt you and the rest of us down - for sport, if nothing else. In there-" She pointed towards the huge opening in the mountain with her entire arm, almost as if she could stab it with her index finger and pull it closer by sheer willpower. "-Is the only place within miles where we can be safe."

Judeau was just considering pointing out that an enormous, yet completely blown-out gateway that even seemed to be the target of an attacking army did not really meet with his definition of "safe" when suddenly, up ahead, the wall of one of the last standing houses exploded outwards, right into the flank of Taskkarr's murvel. The beast was hurled sideways into Thirgynn's grey steed and both dwarves were thrown from the saddle, landing in a pile of fur, limbs and rubble on the other side of the street.

Emerging from the cloud of dust and debris came one of those enormous, human-like creatures that Judeau had spotted in the mayhem a bit further towards the centre of town. Through the shock and surprise, the scout caught an impression of yellow tusks, small, red eyes, bluish-grey skin over freakishly bulging muscles and an expression of wicked triumph on a flat-nosed face.

It was unexpectedly fast, too. The knife that Judeau had aimed at one of its red little eyes whistled past its face as the enormous beast drew back, raising one horrible, clawed hand above its head. The sword-like claws would have torn into the recovering dwarf-murvel bundle before Steelwing – who had gotten a little bit ahead of them – had even had time to turn his elfhorse around or Judeau had drawn another knife, but it never did. Instead the creature jerked, howled as if in pain and slowly began to topple sideways.

In the next instant, Taskkarr came leaping out of the cloud of dust and debris raising his two-handed hammer high above his head. Without hesitation or mercy, the demon hunter brought the massive hammer down on the monster's head in one powerful swing, and the resulting, loud crack and spatter was most reassuring. The whole thing was over before Judeau and Samina had caught up with them, and they arrived to find Taskkarr crouched down over something that the giant monster had dropped as it went down.

Judeau did a double-take and realised with a surge of gut-wrenching nausea that the thing on the ground was, in fact, a dwarf. Or half a dwarf, to be more precise. The pieces of him that were still attached – most of the upper torso, head and arms – showed such signs of having been brutalised that even Judeau, who hadn't hesitated to pitch in at the Hawks' infirmary after a tough battle, felt distinctly disturbed. But what really made his stomach turn was the fact that the broken dwarf was still alive, breathing and _talking_. His skin had the pallor of death and his voice was nothing more than a whisper but he spoke earnestly and apparently comprehensibly to Taskkarr.

Judeau caught a few words of the one-sided conversation as he came closer to the two.

"…_Zur'Vorh, kuzhakka vazj_… but you're back… _Rahk-kriztekh!_ … They need you…!"

Taskkarr nodded and grunted and when the injured dwarf showed signs of slowing down even further, he quietly interrupted:

"Tell me your name."

The other dwarf took a few pained, shallow breaths and tried to swallow once before replying.

"Yrikk… Grimnur. Vonkhuzann."

Taskkarr pressed a fist to his heart and spoke with thick-voiced sincerity, "Your name shall be remembered, Yrikk Grimnur Trollslayer."

A slow but blissful smile spread out over Yrikk's pale face and he nodded with obvious effort, returning Taskkarr's salute with a painfully trembling hand.

"Then… I can finally… die… proud."

And, as if he had finished all that he needed to do, the broken dwarf let his head slowly fall back against the ground and breathed his last, ragged sigh through smiling lips. But not even in death did his hand release its tight grip on the handle of a vicious war axe, the head of which was deeply embedded in the back of the monstrous, blue-grey creature's knee.

As Taskkarr got up from his kneeling position, Judeau couldn't help but notice the tears that ran from the demon hunter's eyes before they disappeared into his beard, but he could not say if they were for Yrikk or for whatever it was that the broken dwarf had told him. Judeau's glance once again shifted over to the dead body.

"How… could he still be alive, still fighting… unbelievable."

Taskkarr, reaching for the reins of his murvelbeast as Thirgynn offered them to him, shot the scout a cold iron glare and rumbled: "Willpower, manling. Not so unbelievable if you are a dwarf. We are not easily slain, even with wounds we can not survive. But we have no more time to dawdle! Hurry, to the Gate!"

He was mounted and moving within a heartbeat, and the rest of them fell in behind him – but not before Judeau had seen the Crusader give the dwarf corpse a quick salute. Giving it an instant's second thought, the scout did the same. _Willpower, eh? Actually, I don't care what anyone calls it: you were amazing, friend._

As the small, motley team rushed towards the swell of battle and the shattered mountain gate beyond, another thought formed over the increasingly distracting, stinging pain of the brand:

_Nothing ever changes. Just when you think it's over, another battle waits right around the corner._

_Sheesh… I wonder how we're going to get out of this one._

Then all other thoughts were drowned in the deafening bellow of _Oothark'han_, the great, unseen dwarven war horn.

* * *

Reviewer responses! (love love mania!)  
RisuMusume: First review! Thank you! (cheers)  
Merina: Yes, it does seem like Steelwing might let him live, for now. Unless he's scheming evilly in secret...Thank you for reviewing!  
Azrael: Your presence on my review board is a true delight. I am very glad to hear that my humble fanfic has such an influence on you and I am very happy to present you with this new installment.  
Pissy Abyssinian: I do like to write dialogue. Most people tell me I am good at it, too - still, it is always nice to hear it from someone else. However, there will probably not be many more chapters so dialogue-heavy in a good while now. Thankfully.  
tigoar: Thank you. I hope to keep your attention.  
Dark Fusion: God Hand diciples count as demons in many ways, so I have for the purpose of this fanfic decided that they are a kind of demons. I will get more into my take ondemons later (hopefully) but the actual God Hand are indigenous to the Berserk world and would not bother to chase a single lost sacrifice into a completely different world, while they still haven't taken care of all those in the one they're IN. They have Gatts to worry about first. And that power-hungry Femto-turned-Griffith...  
JadeAnime: Wa-ha-ha-ha! Another one into the fold! Yes, welcome, enjoy the ride, feel free to point out spelling errors and please excuse the slooow updating schedule.  
mechaghost: Thank you. I try.  
VarianFAWKES: Thanks.  
Samurai xXx: Thank you, for reading both my stories and for enjoying them. Thank you also for your comment, it is good to know that hard work pays off. I'm sorry that you have to wait for me so much, but with work and friends and family and STUFF and since I'm only doing this because it's fun and not because I directly have to, updates will be as slow as they have to be. (mopes)  
Noelle: (glows happily) Thank you ever so much for those kind words! It is one of my greatest joys to know that I canentertain others than myself with this story, and that's what's pushing me to become better and write evenmore. I am actually blushing right now. Thank you. (bows) Please stick around.  
Blade dancer: Here you go. Don't forget to sleep, I hear it's good for you. But thank you for letting me know that my story was THAT interesting to you. (cheers for self)  
Sakiku:Talk aboutfeeling all warm and fuzzy inside! Thank you for liking my story so much and for taking the time to tell me why in such a charming way. The swordfighting principles are part taken from "A Book Of Five Rings" and part some heavy thinking on my part. It very vaguely ties into my acting classes... and some other ideas I've heard or read about. Hm. I dunno, really. (silly grin) I hope to keep entertaining you. 


	18. The Dwarf Hold

Ahh, inspiration is a wonderful thing. Look at how fast I managed to update!

...Wait, that means you guys have _expectations_ on me now, right? Darnit...

I do love my dwarves -So why do I make them suffer like this? Because that's when they truly get to shine. Oh yeah.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: The Dwarf Hold

It turned out to have been a stroke of luck, after all, that they had decided to come at the Dwarf Hold from the side. If they had decided to take the main route, as Samina had suggested, they would have walked right into the back of the dark elf army - and Judeau couldn't even begin to guess what possible outcome that could have had. It was difficult enough to try to avoid getting caught up in the battle as it was. They were still cautiously ducking between the few buildings that yet remained standing, and a fight was getting increasingly unavoidable the closer they got to the huge gate.

Judeau's brain was working overtime, in spite of the paralysing pain in his hand and arm, and as they turned the last corner that would hide a man on horseback, he immediately saw it. There was a gap in the enemy lines. As the dwarven army surged forward, the attackers couldn't quite keep up, and right before Judeau's eyes a weak point in the line strained and burst. Fighters close by had not yet realised it, but it would not be long before they did and would rush in to fill the gap. There were enough of them to do so, for sure. If he could only get the others' attention, Judeau knew that he could lead them all to safety through that little hole, but time was of the essence.

"Everyone!" He shouted. "Over there! Follow me!"

"No!"

Judeau turned in surprise and exasperation towards Taskkarr. "_What?_"

There was something desperate – pained, even, in the demon hunter's eyes as he searched the chaos, completely oblivious to their own very real peril. Then he seemed to find what he was looking for and his expression became desperately determined. The next instant, he had dug his heels into his black murvel and sped off towards the very centre of the battle with a short shout:

"Over _there!_"

The rest of the group seemed as taken aback as Judeau at this unexpected and irrational behaviour, but when the sound of a smaller horn echoed through the din of battle in three short bursts, both Samina and Thirgynn blanched at the same time.

"Barain… Holy Pantheon…!" Gasped the bounty hunter.

"Vontar's mercy!" Shouted the miracle-worker in a similar state of dumbstruck shock.

But before either of them had even begun to shake off their surprised daze, Steelwing was at Taskkarr's heels. Thirgynn only managed a desperate "Wait!" before the tides of battle had swallowed them both up. Uttering a small grunt of frustration, the miracle-worker set off after his _Zur'Vorh_, chanting the stoneskin spell as he went.

"Oh, Taskkarr..."

Judeau swirled in the saddle, giving Samina a look full of questions that would all take far too long to put into words. She responded with a look of equal eloquence, holding sincerity, decisiveness and regret. In the next moment she dug her heels into Kariss and followed her friends into the fray. With a heartfelt but resigned curse, Judeau hurried to catch up with her. A quick glace told him that the gap in the enemy lines had already closed too far for him to try that alone, anyway.

The first brutish, tusked warriors that he rode past seemed too surprised at the sight of him to attack right away, and he didn't give them a chance to figure out what they should do with him. It did, however, give him a chance to take store of his situation.

He realised that the target they were aiming for, at the very heart of the struggle, was a blue and silver banner. Judeau could not make out the design, but realised that it had the exact same colours as the dwarf flags – however, this one banner swayed fretfully to and fro at least several hundred meters from the others. The design did seem slightly different, too, but Judeau deemed that as unimportant for the time being.

_So it's a rescue mission now. And just who is going to rescue _us

Then the beast-man-creatures seemed to decide that he was an enemy, despite his height and lack of facial hair, and came at him with guttural howls and snarls. Small, greenish-black _things_ with sharp claws, protruding noses and flapping ears tittered and chattered and jumped at Packer's legs as he rode past them, and the scout suddenly had his hands full defending himself.

The larger beast-men were as tough as they looked, and just as fearsome. They seemed to come in every colour from mud brown through dirt green to husky blue, hairy and with tough skin that seemed more like scales than leather. Their blood, when he spilled it, was black, thick and unexpectedly warm. The weapons they swung with bestial vigour and fatal skill looked to be designed to intimidate. A task they performed amiably – hooked, barbed, heavy-set and saw-toothed as they were. Judeau opted for avoiding these thrusts and swings instead of blocking them, as the yellow-tusked creatures seemed to have much more brute strength than agility. And none of them were faster than a horse. Packer performed above expectation in these manoeuvres, and even seemed to help Judeau stay on course some of the time. He gave himself a mental note to make sure the little horse got something extra in his food later, should they make it out of here alive.

It was hard to concentrate, though. His blows fell short, missed vital points and sometimes simply glanced off the beast-men's scaly hide or leathery armour because the brand stung so intensely that his whole arm trembled when he tried to strain it. _It's just like fighting when injured,_ he told himself,_ and you've done that before, haven't you? Keep it together, Judeau. Think of this as a chance to train some more of Steelwing's techniques._

He skirted and avoided as many encounters as he could, focusing all the attention he could spare on the lone, waving flag up ahead. Therefore, it took him a while to notice that he had lost track of Samina somewhere along the way. The realisation cut like a knife through his abdomen and for the briefest of moments he considered going back to look for her, but he quickly shook the pang of panic off and reminded himself that the flag wasn't far away now, and that going back at this point would more than likely mean running into the pack of beast-creatures that must surely be on his heels by now. There was no way except forward, and Samina was surely already ahead of him. She was a very capable woman, after all.

Then, the din of battle suddenly ebbed away, as if an unseen force had wrapped around his head like a blanket, muffling all outside noise. At the same time, the sound of his own rushing blood rose to become like thunder in his ears. Everything around him slowed down, as if he and everyone around him were moving through clear syrup instead of air. With a sense of shock that was as slow as Packer's muffled hoof beats he found himself wondering if he had been hit, somehow, and this was what death felt like when it stole up on you by surprise.

Then, further up ahead, a dark shape appeared out from between the now almost grotesquely teeming and writhing throng of fighters, and Judeau just _knew_ that that shape was the cause of this unnatural sensation.

The figure was tall, stately and very much unlike the beast-men that ran about it. As tall as the tallest of the greenskins, but straighter and leaner – though still much more powerfully built than Judeau – the man (somehow Judeau just _knew_ that it was a man) stood perfectly still, indifferent to the chaos all around him. He wore a plate armour more black than anything Judeau had seen before, that shone as if newly polished - as though blood and dust had never dared to settle on the inky blackness. But from its pauldrons, elbows, knees and from the top of the equally jet-black helmet protruded wicked spikes that distinctly said otherwise. In fact, Judeau noticed, one of the great shoulder-spikes shot up through the severed head of a dwarf, greyish-brown beard spilling down the tall man's metal-clad arm.

A cloak as deep burgundy as dried blood billowed out behind him, revealing the long, wicked sword in his black-gauntled hand. It was not spiked, not barbed and not saw-toothed. It was nothing like the heavy, fearsome weapons of the beast-men, but it had a vicious sleekness about it that was infinitely more terrifying. It was also ink-black, with only its razor sharp edge tinted in silver. The handle was shaped like dragon's claws that curved down over its master's hand almost as if the sword was wielding _him_ as much as he wielded _it_.

And Judeau was _absolutely certain_ that the man's full attention was focused solely on him.

For a moment, as Packer sluggishly carried him closer to the anticipating man, Judeau considered that he might be dreaming. Everything seemed so unreal, like one of his brand-induced nightmares. The syrupy air, the muffled sounds, his own swishing blood, thundering heartbeats and roaring breaths that echoed grotesquely magnified in his own ears. The field of death and devastation all around him, teeming with inhuman, bloodthirsty beasts. And this man, so undisturbed by the raging battle all around. So intently focused on Judeau. So absolutely terrifying. The nightmarish déjà-vu feeling that washed over him was so powerful that the scout didn't even think about turning away, and he probably couldn't have even if he had had the presence of mind to try.

As he inexorably came up alongside the dark knight, a clawed, ink-black gauntlet shot out from beneath the billowing cloak, faster than any viper, and closed around his neck with ruthless strength. The next instant the world snapped back into reality with a disorienting pang, and before Judeau had had a chance to pull himself together he had been torn off his horse and slammed into the muddy ground.

His instincts kicked in. He tucked, rolled, and was on his feet with a speed that impressed even himself, just a breath of an instant before a heavy, ink-black metal boot stomped down on the place where his head had landed. The knife left Judeau's hand almost before he knew he had drawn it and flew straight at the barely discernible eye-slit of the helmet, but the dark knight immediately raised an arm and the knife bounced off with an impotent _"Ping"_ - disappearing somewhere in the mud and rubble. Judeau reached back for his scimitars and threw himself back to avoid the dark knight's clawed hand as it shot out again, but he was just too slow and once more Judeau felt the cold metal fingers close around his throat.

Little stars danced before his eyes as the dark knight squeezed, and he felt his feet leave the ground. He clawed ineffectively at the iron-hard grip and tried to kick, but all to no avail. Through the swirling little stars he dimly realised that he had been brought up to the dark knight's face, and stared helplessly back into the narrow face-slit, prepared for just about anything.

What he saw was thin lips, a long, aristocratic nose, and narrowed, slanting eyes that glowed faintly green, all framed by skin so pale it almost seemed to glow as well.

_Griffith? No, no… Steelwing?_ He thought, before his muddled mind allowed him to see that, though somehow eerily similar, this cruel face was very different to that of the Crusader.

The thin lips parted in a disappointed snarl, revealing small, sharp fangs. Judeau gasped and writhed, his chest starting to feel painfully constricting around his lungs. The need for air burned in him, but he couldn't draw breath and he couldn't budge the steel-clad fingers, try as he might.

"You are not worthy," the cruel face said in a deep, strangely melodious hiss. "Your weak blood would only sully Yrakantír. What a disappointment." Then the dark knight hesitated thoughtfully for a moment. "Still," he murmured, as if to himself, sending clouds of hazy stars skittering across Judeau's vision as he squeezed just a little harder. "For some reason I do want to see your blood."

The scout felt something break against his face, then a strange, floating sensation. As the pain hit him with blinding force, he realised that it was probably his face that had broken and not the other way around. Then, thankfully, his consciousness fled him.

"Judeau!" Samina dodged below a clumsily swung axe and raced on, not even bothering to punish the orc that wielded it. Kariss tossed his head and snapped up a green-black goblin that had tried to cling to his leg, and crushed the squealing little creature between his strong jaws.

Samina cursed herself. She had lost track of him! He, the most vulnerable of them all, was all alone somewhere in this chaos. Forget Taskkarr, forget Thirgynn and Steelwing and Barain, she had to find the cursed man before something truly sinister found him.

_I should have just gone with him, back there,_ she thought._ Taskkarr obviously has his reasons - and wherever he goes, Thirgynn follows. Steelwing… well… there _are_ dark elves here. Of course he takes the chance. But me! At least _I_ should have thought of getting the cursee out of the way!_

"Judeau!"

Then she found him. And she felt all the blood leave her face at the sight.

Dangling at least a foot up in the air, the blond little fool was literally in the hands of one of the very creatures she had fervently hoped to avoid. A dark elf. A right warrior too, judging by the extravagant armour.

Samina knew that that was an enemy she could not hope to face alone, but still she spurred Kariss on without hesitation. In all honesty, she had no idea of what she was going to do once she reached the dark elf warrior and his helpless, weakly writhing victim, but it turned out that she didn't have to find out. The black-armoured elf held the little scout out at arm's length, leisurely drew back his other hand and smashed the hilt of his sword into Judeau's face with devastating force. The blond human sailed through the air and landed limply in a pile of rubble at the other end of the street, and the dark elf rather indifferently turned and walked away, his reddish-brown cloak dramatically billowing out behind him.

"Judeau! Gods on a stick... Judeau!"

She was out of the saddle before Kariss had even stopped and fell to her knees by her fallen friend, turning him over carefully to try to assess the damage, as her well-trained murvelbeast took up guard beside them.

Well, at least he was still breathing and had a good, strong pulse.

"You're okay, Judeau," she mumbled, mostly to herself, as she carefully lifted him and hung him over Kari's broad back, making sure that he couldn't accidentally choke on his own blood. "It looks bad right now, but you'll be okay. You'll be fine. Let's get you out of here."

She hesitated an instant longer, giving him a reproachful look and a small, concerned pat on his armoured back.

"You _must_ stop getting so banged up all the time. I might not always be there to take care of you." she murmured. Then she snapped the morningstar back into her hand with a stern frown and, drawing her sword with the other, she gave Kariss the 'follow' command and plunged into the fray once more.

A remarkably short moment later, the face of the battlefield around her changed dramatically in a matter of seconds. She had just poked an eye and hopefully more out of a big, brown-scaled orc that had tried to get in her path, and was swirling around to help Kariss deal with a bunch of goblins that were trying to swarm him and Packer (the little horse had quickly doubled back and allowed his reins to be tied to the murvelbeast's saddle. Samina was starting to have very serious suspicions about the pony's previous owner. The price _had_ been a little too much of a bargain for the acquisition to have been absolutely, perfectly legal, and hadn't there been an army camp nearby? A rather _upset_ army camp, if memory served...), when suddenly a deep voice boomed behind her:

"Perish! In the name of Vontar and _Ha'Vorh_ Barain!"

She turned just in time to duck a powerfully swung warhammer and quickly dropped her weapons, throwing both hands up into the air.

"_Kzat_, Gorgoz!" she yelled. "It's me! Samina!"

The wild-eyed, black-bearded dwarf before her hesitated, hammer already raised for a second blow. Then he blinked and his face momentarily flashed with recognition and surprise, before he forcefully brought his hammer down - right on the knee of an oncoming orc.

The greenskin toppled with a howl, cut abruptly short by another swift blow to the throat. Gorgoz turned his onyx eyes back towards Samina with a very disappointed scowl.

"You're not an orc!" he thundered accusingly. "Why are you here?"

"We're back," she panted. "Taskkarr and Thirgynn and Steelwing and I…"

"Yes, yes," he testily interrupted, then turned away from her to shout at his nearest companions: "A dwarf friend with a wounded! Cover them and get them in behind the lines!"

Samina allowed herself a little grin. "Sorry I interrupted your fight, Gorgoz."

He slapped her on the back of her thigh. "Get moving or I'll be angrier. We'll reach the main army in a little while, so you just tag along!"

Not one to be told twice in a situation like this, Samina readily picked up her sword and made her way in between the dwarves. In the calm at the centre of it all, she saw a shape she recognised well – though of course she'd known he would be there. Done up in his finest, runed, silver-plated armour, the blond dwarf stood overlooking the battle, axe ready in one hand and the other ponderously stroking his thick, straw-coloured beard-braid.

"Tighten it up now!" he bellowed. "Prepare to join the main force!" Then he turned to the less impressively dressed, red-bearded dwarf next to him, who held the blue-and-silver banner in one hand and a curved, gilded murvel-horn in the other, giving him some more hushed orders.

Samina hurriedly made her way over to the blond leader and his flag bearer.

"Barain!" she shouted over the din of battle, raising a fist to her chest in greeting. "Do you have a priest with you?"

The blond dwarf turned in surprise at the sound of her voice and returned the salute with a small, uncertain smile.

"Samina, dwarf friend!" he greeted her sonorously as she came up to him. "What are you doing here?"

His tone was jovial enough for a dwarf commander on the battlefield, but it was distinctly tinted in apprehension, even worry. Samina understood the unspoken part of the question.

"I came with Taskkarr, just now," she explained. "We got separated in all this... I thought he was already here with you. Barain, please, I have a wounded..."

The blond dwarf glanced over at the prone form of Judeau and nodded. "Of course. I'll have my _Khar'ekh_ accompany you." He turned to the flag bearer and barked a few short orders, and the red-bearded dwarf translated them into two short and one long horn signal. Barain then gazed out at the battlefield with something mildly distracted in his eyes.

"No," the dwarf commander mumbled under his breath. "No, he's not here..."

The red-bearded dwarf by Barain's side saluted and spoke up:

"It is time, _Ha'Vorh_."

"Yes." Barain hesitated for the tiniest of instants. "Right. Sound the signal." While the flag bearer did as instructed, the blond dwarf turned to Samina. "We are going to join the main army now. Stay close to me and the _Khar'ekh_ will find you shortly."

"Understood."

Barain wasted no more time on small talk and started barking orders, all of his attention focused on moving his dwarves in a controlled rush towards the main army. Still, as the priest showed up - grey beard cut short in the usual miracle-worker fashion, but allowed to grow slightly longer on each side of the jaw to denote his rank as one of Vontar's healers - the dwarf commander found time to point Judeau out to him. The greybeard took the human on without question, clambering up on Kari's back with practised ease.

Samina found herself running next to Gorgoz again and, assured that her most immediate concern was being taken care of even as she ran, decided it was high time to ask the burning question:

"Gorgoz, what's happened? What's going on here?"

"It's a war, manling!" the black-bearded warrior replied. "You couldn't tell?"

Samina sighed, knowing only too well when she was being targeted by the exotic dwarven sense of humour. "Gorgoz, please..."

"Truth, I don't know," he answered, less loud and more serious this time. "We just got back as well. Been to Vagoria on diplomacy. Came back to find the main road blocked by _those_." He spat at the corpse of an orc as they ran past it. "Blackbloods and _tchun'ni_! Outrage! But we decided to go around. So, half way through the pass we're noticed. Don't know how. They chased us out here just as the bang-" He pointed an explanatory arm at the demolished Gate. "-Went off. _Then_ the whole army came charging and things got a bit difficult. We called for help and _Oothark'han_ answered."

_Of course,_ Samina mused,_ the dwarves would never leave the Hold like this otherwise. They're experts at being besieged._

_But how could we not...?_

"I didn't hear any bang. When did that happen?"

Gorgoz gave her a direct, surprised stare. "Not half an hour ago, I think. Maybe you are going deaf."

Samina took another good look at the utterly shattered remnants of the Gate, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Maybe… or maybe there's magic involved here. Powerful magic. I've got a gut feeling."

Gorgoz gave her an unreadable look and raced on, guarding her flank with silent, dwarven faithfulness. A few moments later Samina heard the priest intone the chant of healing behind her, and followed the comforting murmur with Thirgynn's translation in the back of her head:

_"By the power granted me by Vontar, I grant this warrior new strength to strike down his enemies. I command you: Mend!"_

And, just an instant after that, she heard the very welcome sound of Judeau's voice.

"...Alive?" it groaned. "What was... I... Who...?"

Samina looked back over her shoulder to see the blond scout gingerly try to sit up in Kariss' saddle, somewhat warily accepting his helmet from the hands of the grey-bearded priest.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" she called back at him. "What a time to take a nap!"

He snapped around to look at her, looking utterly bewildered and still very bloody, but without any noticeable trace of the earlier injury. In short, his face looked like an actual face again. While she waited for him to process his situation and her words and possibly come up with a coherent reply, Samina shot a smile and a respectful nod at the priest. "Good job!"

He nodded back, favouring her with a small, proud smile of his own before slipping off the murvelbeast again, disappearing into the controlled chaos of the charging dwarves. Judeau snapped around again to watch him leave.

"Who was...? Where did he go?"

"Keep up, blondie!" Samina found to her surprise that she was feeling quite mischievous. The rush of battle did strange things to you when you didn't have to fight for your life and the immediate future was looking brighter. She grinned at him. "You're not the only one getting hurt out here, he's got plenty of other people to heal!"

Carefully, as if afraid of what he was going to find, Judeau reached up to touch his own face.

"Then that... bright light just now..."

"The mercy of Vontar, so to speak," she offered, dropping back to run next to the murvel instead. "A little gift that his battle-priests receive. Looks like you're as good as new."

He gave her a somewhat blank frown, then gave the blood on his fingertips the same treatment, and finally gasped as reality seemed to catch up with him.

"That man! The black knight! Did you see him! What _was_ that!"

The memory of the dark elf warrior brought Samina back down to earth again. She felt her face tighten into a frown.

"Oh yes, I saw him. That, my friend, was a walking nightmare. A dark elf warrior. You're lucky he wasn't the playful type..." She couldn't help herself. A shiver ran down her spine and she fell silent for a brief moment as she tried to suppress it. "All things considered, you got off very easy. I'm just glad he was arrogant enough not to make sure if you were dead or not. Free tip for the future: Stay away from dark elves whenever possible."

"Uh, yeah," he replied, fastening his helmet again. "I kind of got that all on my own, thank you. I thought he was a demon or something... the way you said it before, I thought that the beast-men were the dark elves...?"

Despite herself, Samina snorted with amusement. "The trollkin? Oh no... They're just soldiers. Dark elves act as officers and elite troops, but they always use other creatures to do the grunt work for them - orcs, goblins, hobgoblins and other trollkin, or demons, undead... sometimes humans."

"Oh," Judeau answered, cradling his cursed hand with a small frown of pain. After a short moment he added, half to himself: "Why? That guy was like an army all to himself..."

Before Samina had even decided whether to answer that or not, The black-bearded dwarf by her elbow spoke up:

"Because these _tchun'ni_ are arrogant and elitist, and because there's - _Vontar hazt_ - not many of them in the world."

Judeau blinked at the dwarf, then at Samina, and the bounty hunter smiled back.

"This is Gorgoz, an old friend of mine."

"No more time," Gorgoz interrupted. "Here it is!"

A brief, pitched battle ensued as the two dwarven forces squashed those trollkin that remained between them and finally met. As Barain's worn fighters were ushered in behind the ranks of the main army, a deep, penetrating bass bellow cut through the noise:

"Barain!"

The blond dwarf immediately halted, grabbing the flag-bearer practically by the scruff of his neck to keep him in place as he turned towards the sound. Samina, who had also recognised the voice, stopped and turned as well, just in time to see Taskkarr push his way through the milling crowd and throw himself into Barain's waiting arms. Thirgynn soon followed, still stoneskinned, but Samina saw Steelwing, leading his elfhorse, first - mostly since he was easily head and shoulders taller than any of the other warriors around him - and waved happily. The tall elf quickly made it over to her.

"You are all right?" he asked. Samina smiled.

"I am. Judeau ran into a dark elf, unfortunately, but-" she quickly added as the Crusader snapped around to look at the blond human. "-Apparently he wasn't interesting enough to kill. He's been healed... um... Steelwing? Hello?"

The elf turned back to her with a strange, mildly amused twitch at the corners of his mouth and gestured over his shoulder at the blond scout. Confused, Samina followed his gaze. Judeau had been wiping the blood off his face but the rag now hung forgotten in his half-raised hand - and the look on his face was truly priceless. Somewhere in the neighbourhood of surprise, only infinitely more expressive. Even more confused, Samina followed _his_ gaze. Then she snickered, a slight blush sneaking onto her cheeks.

Taskkarr and Barain held each other as tenderly as dwarves ever hold anything, and were exchanging small kisses and hushed, sincere murmurs in dwarfish between tear-filled sniffs. Thirgynn, the flag bearer and all the other dwarves around them were politely looking the other way at this open display of affection. Samina tugged on Judeau's coat to get his attention and smiled up at him when she did.

"Before your eyes pop out of their sockets, perhaps you'd like to know that those two are married. And that Barain is a female."

His eyes grew even larger at this and he had to look between Samina and the two embracing dwarves several times before he managed an incredulous "What?"

"Quite," Thirgynn said, blushing intensely with embarrassment and pointedly looking away from the tender scene as he walked up to them. "It always surprises humans. You think that all females have to look elf-like… like your females do. And it is impolite to acknowledge such a public show of emotion, if you please."

With an effort, Judeau looked away from Taskkarr and his mate and focused on Thirgynn instead. "I-it is?"

"Yes. We dwarves believe that passion between spouses should be a private matter. Not many of us would dream of flaunting our innermost, tender feelings the way you humans do… they are precious and should, like treasure, be kept for those they belong to… By Durgin's hammer, they have only been married for less than five years! It is slightly… inappropriate."

Samina decided to step in and save Thirgynn from an obviously awkward situation.

"Be nice, Judeau. They haven't seen each other for a long time, give them some privacy."

The blond scout turned fully away from the two dwarves and resumed wiping his blood-smeared face – maybe to try to hide his embarrassed blush. "Of course, of course. I'm sorry, it's just… I had no idea… He doesn't look anything like a female. I mean _she_. Doesn't. Um."

"'He' will do fine," said Thirgynn, "Dwarves do not have any gender-specific pronouns, anyway. Whyever that should be so important..." Then he added, mostly to himself, "And as for looking female… by your standards, neither do I."

Judeau blinked, lowered the rag again and turned fully towards the snow-haired miracle-worker. "...You're female too?"

"Certainly. And quite an attractive one, I might add."

"Ummm… I'm just… I'm really sorry, but… how… how do you tell the difference?"

"Any dwarf can tell. But the most obvious way to know," the miracle-worker elaborated, obviously happy for the distraction, "Is the beard. Males grow beards that are like thin steel wires, whereas females like myself are much softer – kind of like the sort of facial hair you humans grow. Beyond that, the differences are really minute, but a female's face is often a bit less angular than that of a male."

From the corner of her eye, Samina saw Taskkarr and Barain separate and the blond dwarf turn to his flag bearer again. She interrupted any further questions from Judeau with a sharp "Heads up!" and a second later the sound of Barain's horn signalled the retreat. _Oothark'han_ answered and the dwarf army immediately began pouring back into the Gate. It was all the non-dwarves could do to keep up.

The dark elf army followed them, but while it was still quite a ways away from the great gate, a strangely ululating blast of a horn called them back. The few trollkin that ignored the call all fell to a strange series of bangs from inside the gate. Before he had even had time to realise that they had been saved, Judeau had been pulled into the unknown dusk beyond the blasted doors.

What followed was a huge corridor, as spacious as any cathedral, covered in enormous murals and reliefs from floor to ceiling. The scout only got a brief glimpse of these impressive works of art, because at the instant that he passed in between them the crippling pain in his hand disappeared as if it had been switched off, and the sudden relief was such a shock that it made his head spin.

The corridor gradually grew narrower, which slowed them down a little, and yet the heavy doors at the other end of the great passage looked every bit as absurdly huge and impressive as the outer ones must have done, before they were destroyed. These stood open to admit the army into an enormous, well-lit grotto beyond, and once everyone had gathered in there their mad forwards rush finally stopped.

As the massive doors behind him closed, surprisingly smooth and silent - the noise of the surrounding army pretty much drowned out any other sound, but still: not so much as a squeak - Judeau could only stare in awe at the enormous, decorated chamber.

On the opposite side from where they had entered were another pair of heavy, armoured doors - though these were decidedly smaller, they were still easily the size of a normal city gate - decorated with the image of an axe and a hammer crossed above an anvil. Long balconies, or possibly walkways, overlooked the chamber on all sides and Judeau counted five rows of them, all decorated with bronze and iron statues, intricate stonework and long patterns of angular dwarven runes. The ceiling – all of it – was occupied by a single intricate design in what appeared to be blackened iron, from which many brightly shining orbs hung. Judeau guessed that they were magic, for the light they provided was plentiful and remarkably steady. The great ceiling-decoration itself was impressively complicated and surprisingly full of spikes, most of which appeared to be pointing downwards. For a moment the scout thought it looked terribly unsafe: it was far too easy to imagine the terrible devastation it would cause if it were to fall down on them right now, but then he realised with a small shudder that that was most likely the entire point - A nasty surprise for an unwelcome army.

Each magnificent gate was flanked on both sides by big, stern-faced iron statues of dwarven warriors. One in each pair rested his hands on the hilt of a two-handed hammer, the other wielded a two-handed axe in the same way. They were all of equal height and build, but still different enough from each other to look like specific, individual dwarves, and Judeau found himself wondering in the back of his mind just who they were supposed to be.

Then the gates behind them had closed, and the smaller gate in front of them slowly opened. A reverent and very disciplined silence settled over the dwarven army as a small group of (mostly grey-bearded) dwarves in ornate armour entered the room. One of them – the one that walked in front of all the others – wore a beautifully designed helmet circled by a gilded crown. This silver-bearded dwarf halted at a point where he could be seen by most of the army and saluted with a fist over his heart. It was immediately returned with a smattering of metal against metal from all the gathered dwarves and a roaring, thoroughly startling cheer that was gone as suddenly as it had started.

The crowned dwarf then let up his deep, resonating voice and held a short speech in resounding dwarfish, which was occasionally interrupted by more thunderclap cheers, and finished it with a decisively dismissive wave. The dwarven army began to dissolve in an orderly fashion, most of them filing out through the smaller gate but some seemingly disappearing into the walls all around the chamber - it actually took Judeau a little while and some concentration to notice the hidden doors.

The crowned, silver-bearded dwarf walked up to the group with a not unfriendly grin on his face and wrapped his arms around Barain in a warm bear hug.

"_Vontar hazt,_" he said, maybe a tad hoarsely, as they broke off from each other. "_Barain Kuoz'un'ta._"

"Yes," Barain answered, gesturing at Taskkarr and the others. "And look who I brought in with me."

"Ah!" The crowned dwarf's smile grew wider again. "_Zur'Vorh Taskkarr ni'Hakkr Thirgynn._ All restored again, I see! It is good to see you back with us." Then he hugged Taskkarr as well and saluted Thirgynn, who demurely returned the salute with a slight bow of his chalk-white head. "And dwarf friend Samina, honoured Steelwing." The bounty hunter and the elf got a nod each that they answered with a small bow. "Annnd…?"

Suddenly facing scrutiny from the penetratingly intelligent and deeply gold-coloured eyes of the crowned dwarf, Judeau inadvertently flinched in surprise before quickly dropping into a deep, smooth bow.

"The name is Judeau, Sir. I am honoured to be here."

The scout heard the crowned dwarf chuckle in mild amusement. "Well, of course you are. I am Khurakk Zoroin VonTarrgaz, _Khazuvon_ of the dwarves. Or High King, as you humans say. I'm assuming this one is with you?"

"Yep," Samina answered, as Judeau slowly straightened up – feeling far too out of his league to even guess at what would be appropriate behaviour right now. "It's a stray we happened to pick up on the way. He's a good man. I'll vouch for him, if you wish it."

The High King did not look back at the bounty hunter. "Yes…" He rumbled thoughtfully, though the spark of mirth never really left his eyes as he studied Judeau. The scout had hardly ever felt so weighed, measured and completely figured out in such a brief period of time before. "…While he stays here he will be your responsibility." He finally gave the scout a small nod of acceptance. "Welcome to _Yhakk'Zaran'Kil,_ Principal Seat of the dwarves, Mr Judeau."

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I really hope you liked it, but I make no promises on how fast the next chapter will be up. I'll keep you posted on progress on my blog, as usual. Follow the link from my profile.

Reviewer Responses:  
Merina: Thank you very much for pointing that out to me, it just never really occured to me that people would see the orc army like that. You made me think about what I was writing, and improve this chapter. Thanks a lot!  
RisuMusume: Good to know that you haven't given up yet! And the dwarves are maybe not as badly off as they seem... just wait and see. (wink)  
Pissyabyssinian: You were _despairing?_ Well, I never... Okay, I can understand why.And don't worry, bothyou and Judeauwill see more of the dwarves.  
Gambit01: Thank you for your review! If you want to know what happens, pleasekeep reading.  
The Abhorsen: Thank you! I didn't even know you were following it. Hopefully the updates will never be quite THAT slow again...  
Kahuda: Thank you. Of course I am. It's a matter of pride, now.  
JoshRin: Hey, I actually managed to! How cool is that?  
Azrael: (bows down deelpy) My pleasure to entertain you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.  
Drachen: I am so very flattered that you actually have stuck with me for so long, in a story that's not even a "proper" fan fic, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your patience. It will not be for naught.And yes, Thirgynn _is_ rather cute.


	19. The Attack

Here's a new chapter for you, and it's a long one, too! I do so hope I'll manage to keep this updating speed for a while... (Knocks on wood)

A few clarifications before we go, just to prevent any unneccesary confusion: Dwarves call dark elves _tchun'ni_, wich means "drakelings", because there are certain things that dwarves don't like that dark elves and dragons have in common, and dark elves call themselves high elves, because they are very stuck up and elitist. I hope I have managed to convey this in the text itself, but covering my tail end can never hurt.

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Chapter Eighteen: The Attack

Thirgynn walked through the wide streets of the Deep City in concentrated thought, her red cloak still occasionally wafting the scents from the celebration of Taskkarr and Barain's return up to her sensitive nose. Now, there was a party that could have been so much livelier - but it could not be helped: Recent circumstances had thrown something of a damper on the whole thing. Not that it hadn't been an enjoyable distraction from said circumstances, but still. Thirgynn sighed. She was sure she would soon be missed and maybe even searched for, but she hoped that at least Taskkarr would understand. Right now, she needed some time to herself to think – and to come to terms with… well, everything.

The second shift had already begun and those who worked while the first shift slept were going about their business all around her. Some of them nodded respectfully as they passed her, but she paid them only a fleeting attention. Without really thinking about it, she turned down a lesser used path and soon entered a small and sparsely decorated tunnel into the mountain wall.

Earlier, once the introductions in the antechamber had been taken care of and the longlings had been ushered ahead into the Inner City at the heels of the main army, the High King had taken Barain and Taskkarr, as well as herself and Yrgnir, Barain's red-bearded _hakkr_, aside and explained the situation to them, and it had proven to be far more serious than any of them could ever have guessed.

Taskkarr had cursed, Barain had frowned deeply, Yrgnir had – being one of the Hold's expert tacticians – started asking clever questions and making suggestions, and Thirgynn herself had retreated into a very thoughtful silence. But it was all merely different ways to deal with the gut-wrenching instability that the unsettling news had brought them.

The chalk haired miracle-worker absentmindedly entered the small _zuk'vaz_ room at the end of the tunnel, closed the door and pulled the lever, all on nothing but automated routine. As the floor trembled and then smoothly begun to rise under her feet, Thirgynn frowned more deeply and pensively clasped her hands behind her back.

The steam tunnels. The enemy's first attack had been on the steam tunnels. Of course, considering that they had demons under their command, that alone wasn't very surprising, but what more was that the drakelings (pronounced _tchun'ni_ in dwarfish and referring to the creatures more commonly known as 'dark elves,' due to certain unpleasant characteristics they shared with the dragons that they allegedly worshipped) had placed an inverted shield spell around the entire mountain and so any and all communication with the other Holds was completely cut off, even magical such. The Holds would surely know that something was amiss, since they could not receive or send any messages to _Yhakk'Zaran'Kil_, but without the steam tunnels, even if they had started making preparations the very same day as communication was cut, any reinforcements they could send would take about two years to reach them – and in that time the steam tunnels would be almost completely cleared and rebuilt, even with a fair amount of demonic interference. It was far more likely that they were focusing their attention on restoring said tunnels instead, as well they should be.

Of course, two years was absolutely nothing to a dwarf Hold – they had been self-sustaining long before the dwarven race ever breached the surface of the world and they had never found any reason to make themselves dependant on surface-dwellers of any kind – that was not what was weighing on Thirgynn's mind.

_What are those thrice-cursed drakelings planning?_ The thought nagged at her, would not leave her in peace.

The_ zuk'vaz_ room came to a smooth halt, and with a very stern, introvert frown, Thirgynn stepped out onto the deserted walkway. She absentmindedly walked all the way over to the balustrade and gazed down, and only then did her face smoothen out into a warm smile. Far beneath her, glowing gently up through the vast, silent cavern of the great grotto, the sparse lights of the Deep City spread out all over the bowl-shaped floor, as well as some ways up the walls. The sight reminded Thirgynn strongly of a school of _mokkor_ – cave fish – that had used to come to sleep in the deep, still pool just outside of her quarters, back when she had still been apprenticed to Master Gurnis. Their feelers had glowed just like that once all of them had settled, and she had stood at the edge of the deep, black pool looking down at them through the perfectly still surface of the water, just like this - thinking of everything and nothing, when really she should have been sleeping already.

Chuckling slightly at the old memory, Thirgynn heaved a small sigh of contentment. From up here, everything looked so normal: Unchanged, untouched, peaceful and familiar. It was hard to believe that the Hold was under a siege at all.

With that thought her frown returned, along with a fierce desire to protect these softly shimmering little lights - the representatives of everything that had ever truly mattered to her. Her hands tightened into white-knuckled fists where they rested on the banister and she let out a long, ponderous breath through her nose.

By Durgin's hammer, what were they _planning?_ She turned away from the sight of the Deep City and trudged on along the spacious walkway, deeply immersed in thought.

What made this attack so different from any other and so strange was, in fact, the magic that the drakelings had applied in it. First of all, all three watch towers had been blasted apart at exactly the same time, with no survivors. Directly following that attack the perimeter outposts – the hidden as well as the obvious - had all been attacked. Again, a far too coordinated incident considering the sheer magnitude of the task. But the most terrible and unbelievable part of this was that they had lost them all – Every single perimeter outpost had been overrun within the hour.

Mostly because of the demons, of course. Taskkarr had sputtered when he had been told that the enemy were using Summoning Demons – demons powerful enough to summon and control minions of their own – and had almost laughed with disbelief. 'They are demolishing their own mine!' he had said, 'Truly, all we have to do is wait for them to lose control!'

But, as the High King had pointed out, the drakelings _were_ controlling them - maybe as many as six of them, even - and without any apparent trouble.

Adding this knowledge to the fact that the enemy's army was shielded by several Magic Barrier spells, preventing the miracle-workers' divination spells from penetrating more than one or two areas at a time (so many Barrier spells of such density in one single place was nigh unheard of!) and thereby leaving the dwarves with embarrassingly little information on their enemies, as well as the appearance of possessed trollkin on the battlefield – and the miracle-workers, with Master Gurnis the Thunderer at the head, had found it safe to assume that the enemy must have a small coven of summoners and dark mages at their disposal. Probably mind-linked, to account for the massive power and coordination necessary in order to accomplish all of this.

And now, the Outer Gate had been destroyed. Thirgynn halted at a seemingly unremarkable place on the walkway and turned to face the wall. She remained there for a moment, as if hesitating, but then confidently strode up to the smooth rock surface and opened her magic Sight. It had once been a very difficult thing to do, she remembered with another sudden and unusual touch of nostalgia, but now she Saw as easily as others flexed an arm or swung a hammer. Immediately the world around her changed: What had been clear, sharp lines and contours before became merely diffuse suggestions of the same. A slight pull downwards and to her right told her the direction in which the Sanctum of Vontar was placed - and right in front of her, on what had previously been merely a high stone wall, polished to sleekness, an enormous rune suddenly blazed forth in vivid red.

Where she stood, Thirgynn reached only about a sixth of the Rune's height, and it stretched out just as far to either side of her. It was a simple enough design, angular as all dwarf runes, and the sight of it sent an unexpectedly strong wave of relief through her. She reached up and followed one of the familiar lines with her fingers, feeling the massive power contained within as a sharp vibration against her mind.

This was one of the eight Great Runes that together formed a circle (and with their field of effect, a sphere) around the entire Hold, and the world had yet to see a better or more powerful protection spell than the one contained within these ancient, meticulously cared-for magical symbols.

This one, however, had a special meaning for Thirgynn – one of her ancestors, along with a few other miracle-workers, had permanently sacrificed a part of their souls and bound it to the Rune to ensure that its magic would never fade or run the risk of being corrupted. She usually found herself in this place when she needed to ponder some difficult problem, and sometimes she almost thought she could sense the presence of the long-dead dwarf, as if he sat next to her in companionable silence. And as disturbing as that reasonably should be, it always rather helped her to think.

_Yes,_ she mused, _as long as these Runes exist, it does not matter how many mages they can mind-link and turn towards us. The runes on the Outer Gate were nothing by comparison. We have nothing to fear._

But still that nagging doubt remained. It just did not make sense: The destruction of the Outer Gate – considering the runes just inside of the Gate were more powerful than those on the doors themselves, it seemed like nothing so much as a huge waste of power or possibly an idiotically arrogant display of the same. Also, the disruption of all communication outside the Hold: For some reason, the enemy didn't want to alert the other Holds as to what was going on, which meant that they had something planned to happen before the steam tunnels had been rebuilt – Thirgynn was not so naive as to believe that the enemy did not anticipate the speed of their reconstruction schedule.

But _what?_ That was the burning question. The miracle-worker's frown deepened even more as she leaned her back against the blazing Rune, crossed her arms over her chest and sank down to a sitting position, trying and testing this difficult dilemma from any angle she could think of. Drakelings were nothing if not devious - a part of the reason why they had that particular nickname - and she found it a great strain on her dwarven mind to attempt to think as one.

The only thing that was exceptional about these enemies was their magic - but even so it was still a far cry from penetrating the ancient protection spell around the Hold, and with that still in place it did not matter how many demons they summoned – the tainted creatures would never be able to step into the hold. And frankly, the army they did have was hardly a threat worthy of recognition. The Hold's physical defenses were more than enough to deal with them.

So what were they planning?

Thirgynn remained by the Great Rune for several hours, until she had to concede that it was time to withdraw if she was to get any sleep at all before returning to her duties. But while the _zuk'vaz_ room gently lowered her to the level of the Deep City, she wearily ran a hand over her face and questioned whether she would truly get any rest at all – she felt no closer to the answer now than she had when the question had first presented itself.

* * *

The hunched, lavishly robed figure hummed to itself, rocking back and forth in a manner that Supreme Commander Leivisati had come to interpret as 'gleeful'. The high elf general paused for an instant and tilted his head very slightly to the side, a small frown marring his perfect, porcelain-pale countenance as he listened to the unarticulated, disturbingly lilting sound. After a brief moment, the words that Leivisati thought he had heard reappeared in the gratingly off-key humming: 

"_Clever little rats that hide in their hole_

_Soft noses twitching, eyes black as coal_

_Think they are safe from the claws of the cat_

_Hoards every scrap, until they get fat_

_But a rat that is fat will not run very fast_

_And a cleverer cat will catch them, at last."_

The voice had a decidedly unnatural timbre, and kept rising and falling acutely as if it couldn't decide on whether it was male or female - or both. The high elf Commander carefully let his face smoothen out so as not to betray any emotion that he did not wish to show, and stepped up to the humming, rocking figure.

"I assume all went according to plan, oh great and powerful Ezanduaal?"

The hunched man turned to look at him, and Leivisati frowned on the inside. He did find the other's appearance rather appalling, but then he himself never had and never would allow any surgical modifications to be done to his own exquisite flesh, and could honestly not understand those who did. Certainly, it might be aesthetically pleasing, but was it really worth the price?

Case in point: Ezanduaal the Summoner. With his lips stitched shut and the flesh on his cheeks carved off he did make a thrillingly horrible spectacle, especially since his craft had endowed him with slightly elongated and viciously sharpened teeth - but what was the point of doing such a thing if it meant that one could no longer enjoy the taste of blood, or a fine wine?

Also, though some others thought it very attractive, Leivisati found that to him the other traces of demonic corruption that the Summoner exhibited, such as blotchy skin both spectral white and bruise-like purple, his hunched posture and complete lack of hair, hints at scaly hide rather than smooth skin in places, and the unnatural, bleak lavender color of his eyes, rather made him look like a mockery of the pure high elven shape. And Leivisati did not appreciate being mocked.

"_Oh yes, most excellent Lord Leivisati,_" the Summoner answered, his dry tongue clicking subtly against its cage of teeth. Ezanduaal's fascination with body modification had long ago taken away his ability to speak, and the Summoner had fashioned a spell to shape the words for him instead. Leivisati had no desire to find out how the man could even sustain himself at all, but assumed that demonical energy had to be involved in that, too. "_My theories were practically perfect, and with what I learnt from this little experiment I am sure you will find the progression of our plans to be most satisfactory._"

The emaciated Summoner then bowed, a tad too late for the humility he so readily radiated to be truly genuine. Also, the infuriating man had once again dared to refer to the conquest plans as "theirs" – a plain disregard for Leivisati's higher rank. The high elf Commander frowned disapprovingly and saw a shade of haughty insolence in Ezanduaal's pale, mad little eyes before the twisted creature turned back to stare out across the battlefield at the blasted entrance of the dwarf Hold, with a hoarse, trembling hiss that may and may not have been a quiet giggle.

Leivisati studied the Summoner for a little while longer, watching the man absentmindedly bring a gnarled hand up to his face and scrape one long, black talon (all right, so demonic corruption also had certain obvious perks) against his exposed molars, then at the tiny nub of a horn that poked through the blotchy skin just above his right eyebrow. After that, the Summoner began gently stroking his own bald, tattooed scalp, humming quietly to himself all the while.

"_Such clever, clever little rats…_"

"Well then," Leivisati concluded, already getting bored of the mad Summoner's company, "Proceed with the preparations, and keep me informed of your progress."

Ezanduaal didn't even bother to turn back and bow, merely nodded at the Commander over his shoulder.

"_Certainly, oh magnificent Lord Leivisati._"

As he turned to walk away, the high elf noble allowed himself another small frown. _If you weren't so useful, Summoner, I would put you down like the mad dog you are._ He lightly touched the hilt of the sword at his side and felt it hum subtly in reply.

Leivisati had only walked a few steps, however, when he was intercepted by Vajel, another one of his vassals – though infinitely less tiresome to have around. Even if he did have a penchant for excessive and sometimes downright ridiculous arrogance, it was an understandable character flaw considering the noble bloodline that Vajel hailed from – a family almost as prominent as Leivisati's own. Almost.

The heavily armored warrior immediately fell to one knee before him and bowed his head as if to anticipate the strike of an executioner. Leivisati smiled, pleased to see such a flawless display of servitude, however insincere it might be beneath the surface, after the Summoner's infuriatingly blatant insubordination.

"Ah, wielder of a legendary blade Vajel. How is my army?"

"My Lord and Master Leivisati," the warrior said, removing his helmet but not yet rising to his feet. "It is well. Losses were no worse than anticipated, and the trolls have settled some – all exactly the way you planned it."

Leivisati rewarded the pale, sable-haired warrior with a satisfied smile and a small, graceful nod. "You may rise, noble Vajel. I understand you supervised this battle from within. Did you find a worthy challenge this time?"

Vajel slowly rose to his feet to the sound of faintly clanking metal and frowned, letting a small sigh of disappointment out through his long, sharp nose.

"I am afraid not, my Lord and Master. None yet to even compare with this one." He indicated the grey-bearded dwarf head that adorned the left shoulder-spike of his nightsteel armor. Then the high elf warrior hesitated and his frown deepened for an instant.

"However… No, I do not wish to bore you with insignificant and probably unimportant details, my Lord and Master."

Leivisati interrupted the warrior's apologetic bow softly:

"That is for me to decide, noble Vajel. Do tell me of this detail that caught your attention."

Ink-black eyes sought his own ebony ones in a moment of uncertainty, but the noble warrior quickly found himself and looked down in another subservient bow. _Afraid? Of me? How clever of you, Vajel…_

"Of course, my Lord. It is true that I found no exceptional fight in this battle, but I did find a human."

"A human?" Leivisati did not hide his surprise. "I thought all human warriors that were here had been disposed of when this Trade City fell." He indicated the battlefield behind them with a nod over his shoulder.

"As did we all, my Lord. But this one… I have not met him before, I am sure… there was something unusual about him."

"Unusual?" Leivisati asked, feeling the first stirrings of impatience but habitually ignoring them for the present time.

"Yes. I noticed him from quite a distance, and it was as if… as if he was calling for me, challenging me, without even knowing of my presence. It might just have been the thrill of battle, but I was intrigued so I answered his challenge… and when I came closer to him… it was as though something about him somehow tried to call up my blood haze. Again, it was very faint and I can not say that it was…"

"_That… was a human?_"

Both noblemen turned towards the twisted shape of the Summoner, who had somehow walked almost all the way up to the two of them without making so much as a whisper. Now, however, he was making a very dry and uneven hissing sound that gave the impression of the last stages of some terminal illness, and Leivisati noticed that the gnarled, clawed hands shook slightly.

"_And you… met him?_"

Narrowing his eyes at the lack of proper acknowledgements, Vajel eyed Ezanduaal with equal disrespect. "Yes… you would know of this person, my Lord?"

The corrupted Summoner half-turned to stare at the gaping hole in the mountain wall across the battlefield again, still repulsively wheezing.

"_We felt it. The pull… the hunger. Yes… a call. A curse. A cursed man. And what a curse!_" A shiver of excitement ran through the Summoner's bony body. "_How lovely. I shall have him. We must have him…_"

Leivisati had come to understand that when Ezanduaal started referring to himself in plural form it was usually the end of any intelligent conversation, so he gestured at Vajel to follow and turned to walk away.

"_Commander Leivisati,_" the unnatural voice interrupted him. The high elf did not turn back, but waited for an instant in case the mad Summoner might actually have something worthwhile to say.

"_Do you know what humans call us? They call us dark elves._" Again that wheezing, coughing almost-giggle. "_Because they are afraid of the dark! Such fun little rats, aren't they? Such fun, clever little rats… to hunt… And in the dark - oh yes – in the darkest of nights… I will hunt them. We will hunt them."_

Burying the annoyance over this waste of his time, Leivisati calmly strode away from the mumbling, giggling, corrupted man. He had a lot of important work to do.

As he walked, he addressed Vajel without turning to look at him.

"This human, you did not kill him?"

The warrior seemed slightly distracted as he made a faint, noncommittal noise at the back of his throat.

"I will admit that he was rather fast for his kind, my Lord, but unfortunately still unworthy of my blade, so I crushed his face with the pommel. I suppose he survived if the Lord Summoner says so…"

"Yes," Leivisati replied curtly, "I suppose he would know."

Vajel's arrogantly dismissive attitude of the opponents he deemed 'unworthy' was another thing that Leivisati could not grasp for himself. Then again, if every high elf had shared his own view on how to deal with enemies, there would have been none left to spread the useful horror-stories about 'dark elves' to the rest of the world.

And that would have been quite a shame, really.

* * *

Judeau was absolutely fascinated. 

How could he not be? He had stayed inside the dwarf Hold for something like two or three months now, and he had only just begun to grow accustomed to living in a big, largely empty, bowl-shaped city that was at all hours lit up by blazing braziers, torches and magical "glowballs," creating something mostly akin to a perpetual bright twilight. And then he had decided to turn a new corner and had come upon something like this.

The scout walked reverently through the quiet, luminescent garden, staring in undisguised awe at the fancifully shaped fungi all around. During his stay here in what Samina had called the Inner City (apparently there was another city even further into the mountain where most of the dwarves lived, called the Deep City, but he hadn't gotten to see that yet) he had seen a lot of impressive artwork - each square and larger building seemed to have its own representative statue or construction, or sometimes several, arranged in such a way that they complimented each other most elegantly - but this was something that blew even the most finely crafted statues out of the water, at least as far as Judeau was concerned.

Then again, it could just be the welcome sight of any kind of vegetation that wasn't already on a platter.

The path led him in under the massive, bluish-glowing hats of two apple tree-sized mushrooms and he stopped, reaching out to curiously touch the dark brown top of the disc-like appendages that grew out of the white, faintly fluorescent trunks at even intervals, creating opposing spiral patterns from root to hat. It was just as velvety to the touch as it looked. Judeau assumed that these disc-fungi were in fact parasiting on the larger mushrooms, because their flaky undersides glowed a subdued shade of green that very nicely broke off from the soft blue and white luminescence of their hosts.

And there was more - So much more: Small, spindly fungi that glowed bright white from top to bottom, larger, trumpet-shaped ones whose exposed undersides emitted a very faint, pinkish glow, small mushrooms with shimmering, orange and red hats... the fungi came in every shape and every size, and many different colors - although for some reason mostly different shades of blue - and they had all been obviously and carefully arranged to look their very best. Also, all through the soft, organic shapes of glowing fungi wound equally organic-looking pieces of metallic artwork - which was very surprising indeed considering the general impression Judeau had gotten from dwarven artwork throughout the rest of the city, which was many things but not exactly organic.

Then again, he supposed even dwarves had to have their eccentrics - and how eccentric would you not have to be to design a garden of glowing fungi in the first place?

Judeau paused and frowned briefly at himself. Of course, it wasn't like they had any flowers down here...

Some fungi grew off of the metal constructions, some grew around them, and yet some were encircled by them as if the metal had grown around _them_, instead, and it was absolutely fascinating. Judeau found himself riveted, following the winding path until it widened into a clearing of sorts where big, bowl-shaped disc fungi led a small, cold stream of water all the way from high up on the unusually craggy stone wall into a still, dark pool at ground level. Here he had to pause and watch the glow of the silent garden reflected in the gently rippling surface of the cool pond.

He must have stood there for two minutes or more before he noticed the bench just behind him and decided to sit down for a while. The moment his weight was off his knees, however, a wave of warmth surged through him and almost made him moan in surprise as every muscle in his body tingled with grateful relaxation. The hypnotically calming lights of the fungi-garden had let him completely forget about the excruciating training pass he had just endured under Steelwing's stern command.

Temporarily favoring his weary body over the strange beauty of the luminous garden, Judeau closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the smooth steel with a drawn-out sigh, relishing the pervasive silence and the much-needed relaxation.

He still trained with the Crusader every day, even if it wasn't always such a complete physical workout as today. Some days his lessons consisted of nothing more than questions and answers and lengthy discussions about Steelwing's "mental techniques" - what he had understood, what he was expected to understand, what his next training exercise should be and the philosophy behind it, and so on, and so on - while his body rested so that he wouldn't risk wearing himself out completely.

This dependable routine was a good thing in more than one way: First of all because Judeau could feel his body strengthening and his skill improve, little by little - By now, he would say that he had regained all that he had lost during his convalescence and that he was actually starting to get even better than before. Secondly, because it gave him something to do.

Judeau wasn't a part of the defending army, but he could tell that there had been no more serious attempts at an attack on the Dwarf Hold since the chaotic day of their arrival, and even though they could not see it from in here, it was impossible to forget about the brooding army just outside the gates. In the general sense of unrest and uncertainty that this caused to slowly seep through the Inner City, Judeau thought that he might have gone mad if he hadn't had some kind of distraction to turn to.

Of course, there was always Samina. Judeau felt his lips quirk into a small smile. Each day, after he had left the Crusader to his own even more rigorous training, Judeau sought out the bounty hunter and the two of them would either go for a walk through the city or sit in an alcove in the company-room of Gorgoz' tavern and talk, mostly depending on his level of exhaustion - and during this time he had learnt so much from the scar-faced woman.

About dwarves, elves and trolls and all the other different people and cultures that merged, mingled and battled all over the enormous continent, about beasts and dangers - and about his comrades.

Like how Taskkarr had once, after saving the High King's life in battle(!), asked for the (in lack of a better word) princess' hand in marriage and been granted it since dwarves took life-debts extremely seriously - which apparently made him some kind of adopted son of the King... Judeau still wasn't too sure about the technicalities in that matter, but didn't really try to comprehend them, anyway. Dwarven family structure seemed complicated at best and perfectly incomprehensible at worst.

The _hakkr_ system was far easier to understand, then: A dwarf of high rank would be appointed an aide, an expert in some area that would be considered useful to him in the kind of work he was entrusted with. The _hakkr_ was expected to work as an advisor and all-around assistant or servant - and possibly body-guard as well - among other things in order to further ensure that the noble dwarf never made a rash or damaging decision, for himself or for the people under his responsibility.

As the case was with Thirgynn and Taskkarr: Taskkarr was a demon hunter and since demons were magical creatures that sometimes could not be affected by normal, non-magic weapons, he had very good use indeed of an expert at magic, such as Thirgynn.

And Taskkarr had, as mate of a royal person, a lot of responsibilities to keep track of. He and the miracle-worker were often tied up with different kinds of work in the Deep City, so Judeau didn't see much of them. But between Steelwing's and Samina's different lessons he really didn't have much time over at the end of the day, himself.

Not that he didn't like spending so much of his time with the bounty hunter. She was a very pleasantly uncomplicated and easygoing person, and being around her always seemed to lighten up the atmosphere a bit. For instance, she had seemed so much less affected than most by the perpetual dusk and the oppressive mood - the population of the Inner City consisted of almost equal parts humans and dwarves, most of which had apparently lived in the now-destroyed Trade City outside the Hold, and though the cavern all around them was so spacious that it hardly even reflected an echo, the feeling of being trapped inside was slowly increasing among the humans - But Samina was still smiling as brightly and laughing as loudly as ever.

That was why he had been so surprised at her confession just a few days ago, when he had finally had to ask her how she managed to stay so unaffected. At first, she had told him it was because she had dealt so much with dwarves before that she had simply gotten used to the 'feeling' of being inside a Dwarf Hold for long periods of time, but then she had fallen silent and fiddled thoughtfully with her empty mug for a while before looking off to the side with a slightly weary expression.

"No, it gets me too," she had said. "But as long as I pretend that it doesn't, it kind of... doesn't. Do you know what I mean?"

Judeau had nodded. He knew well the useful power of self-suggestion. Then Samina had chuckled and turned back to face him.

"Actually, it's mostly thanks to you. The way _you_ keep smiling helps _me_ remember how to do it." She had smiled mischievously. "In fact, I thought you were the unaffected one."

They had both laughed at that and concluded that being good at faking smiles was something they apparently had in common.

Judeau opened his eyes again and gazed thoughtfully at the steady, light green glow of the disc-fungi, and how it reflected off of the resting and falling water. His eyes followed the trickling stream all the way down to the still pool, and he frowned slightly, thinking to his own surprise that the water reminded him of the scar-faced woman in some ways. Calmly reflecting any luminescence on its surface, but without showing much of what might be going on below.

And he knew that it was an unfair thought. She readily answered any question he threw at her, but the truth was that as long as she was calm and content, it was as though something prevented him from asking about her. When he actually did, she answered, but still he felt like he didn't know much about her and did not, for some reason, want to ask anything too personal. As if he could feel that there was a limit to how much she was ready to share – and maybe that she regretted sharing what little she had, in the few moments that she had been upset and not thought too much about what she was saying.

Judeau leaned forward and felt a slightly wry smile twist its way onto his face. He had met his fair share of people and knew almost every type there was, and it really wasn't that hard to figure Samina out. She was smart and knew her way around people, but contrary to popular belief, that didn't make a person immune to being read - and in all honesty, she was a lot like himself: Manipulative, in that she could smile like she meant it in order to hide what she was really feeling, either to throw off any unwanted questions or to keep the mood of her companions up in a difficult situation.

But she was still only human, and no matter how good she got at manipulating and hiding her emotions and secrets, they glinted through sometimes. And Judeau was certain – he had seen it so very many times before – that the real reason she had revealed what little she had, accident or no, was because somewhere deep inside, she really, really wanted someone to see through her. To call her on her fake smiles and ask her the questions she thought she didn't want to answer.

But he also knew that if he actually tried to _do_ that, he would be making a terrible mistake. Better to wait and see if she was smart enough to realize that she wanted to share, and if he proved trustworthy enough for her to share it with – whatever it was.

In the meantime, he found himself lightening up more and more in her company. He had a feeling that he was being played - again, he had extensive experience with using charm to get people to trust him without necessarily sharing much of himself in return, so he could suspect when it was being done to him - but he really didn't mind. He liked Samina, genuinely liked her, and whether he was being "duped" into it or not, he was quite frankly too far from home and too dependant on her and the rest of the team to allow himself any suspicious-minded distancing.

'Sides, he was still the 'new guy' around here.

Judeau stood up with a slightly strained breath and flexed his aching muscles – It was high time to head back to Gorgoz' inn, where he and Samina had rented rooms at a very reasonable price.

As he picked his way out of the luminescent fungi garden, Judeau absentmindedly rubbed his palms together. The left one kept itching.

* * *

The blond scout had barely had time to step into the hallway when Samina poked her head around the corner. Her face immediately changed from a worried frown into a relieved smile, and she quickly walked up to him. 

"Hey," she said, while surreptitiously scrutinizing him. Judeau frowned at her in confusion.

"Hey...?"

Her gaze flicked to his face and her smile turned apologetic, with a hint of embarrassment. "You were gone so long I started to get a little worried. It's almost evening, you know. How are you feeling?"

Judeau's frown deepened as he walked with her into the common room.

"A bit sore, I suppose. Otherwise fine. Why?"

She hesitated for an instant as her smile gave way to seriousness, then she gave his sleeve a slight tug.

"Let's sit down."

She waved at Gorgoz to bring them some beer as she steered the scout towards their usual alcove, where she sat down with a small, thoughtful sigh. Judeau studied her frowning face in hopes of gleaning some kind of insight, but didn't find much. However, as soon as the black-bearded dwarf had placed two mugs of ale in front of them and returned to his business, the bounty hunter spoke up:

"There's something I've forgot to tell you. Probably not much to worry about but with the circumstances being what they are..." She trailed off with an indeterminable little shrug, and Judeau couldn't help but let out a short laugh.

"You know, saying something like that really doesn't help me _not_ to worry." He leaned forward and softly lowered his voice. "What's going on, Samina?"

The bounty hunter tapped her fingers against the side of her mug for a moment, frowning in concentration, before she looked up again.

"Okay, it's like this: On the last night of each year, the darkest and the longest night, every sane person stays inside after sunset. We don't go out and we don't light any candles or fires. We stay together and most of us stay awake until dawn. This is called the Night of Oaths, and we do these things because as the night darkens, the barrier between this world and the next grow weaker. Unrestful spirits walk this world again, and some of them prey upon the living." She hesitated and fired off a lopsided smile at him. "As you well know. And warmth and light attract them, as do lonely targets. Also, you don't swear any oaths, because the boundary to the realm of the gods has also weakened and they just might hear you - and if they take your oath, you don't want to know what could happen to you if you would fail to fulfill it. Also, magic users usually keep from using magic, unless they really know what they're doing, because it can have unexpected consequences. Like a surprise visit from demons or the like. Or so I've heard. And," she finished, pointing at his hands on the table, "It seems you can already see what I'm getting at."

Judeau looked down and found himself rubbing his branded left palm again, and frowned. Now that he thought about it, he noticed just how persistently the damned thing was itching - and that it had done so for quite a while. He looked up at Samina again and her eyes widened as they met his.

"You... feel something, don't you?" she asked in a low voice. He nodded, and the bounty hunter's face hardened decisively. Her hand closed around his - hiding the hated burn mark from his view, if not his sense.

"Come on."

He let her drag him out of the tavern and off through the Inner City without any comments. After a moment she suddenly released his hand, as if she only then realized that she had been holding it, but without missing a step. He hurried up a little until he was alongside her and decided to ask after all:

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," she replied. "We're almost there already."

He shrugged and followed her, frowning at himself in annoyance when he noticed that he was still rubbing his palms together. With a frustrated huff, he forced his hands to stay at his sides and determinedly ignored the stubborn itch. They turned a few more corners, crossed a small plaza, and suddenly they stood in front of a building Judeau easily recognized. He sent Samina a confused frown.

"The Shrine of Vontar?"

She gave him a small smile back and nodded, before opening the door and stepping inside.

"Come on, Judeau."

The blond scout shrugged and followed her, and the moment he stepped inside of the small, lavishly decorated church he felt the itch in his hand fade away and die out. He briefly looked around at the metallic sculptures and carved stone decorations all around, surreptitiously rubbing his hand against his pant leg to get rid of the last, lingering irritation.

"Okay. Now what?"

"We wait," Samina answered simply.

Only a moment later, a small door beside the altar in the other end of the rather well-organized but still cluttered-up room opened, and a sternly frowning dwarf head poked out. Its dull red beard was streaked with grey and cut short, though slightly longer on each side of the square jaw, and its furrowed, reddish-grey eyebrows were unusually bushy even for a dwarf and pointed upwards at the ends almost as though they had been carefully styled to do so.

The dwarf priest (the cut of his beard was a dead giveaway, even if they hadn't been in a Vontar church) made a hoarse, demanding grunt and stepped out to focus his bushy-browed stare more directly at the two of them.

"Well?" he said, and his voice really turned out to be as gravelly and hoarse as the inarticulate grunt had suggested. Judeau found himself wondering if the dwarf had wounded his throat at some point, and it hadn't healed properly. The priest sternly crossed his arms over his red-clothed chest. "Which one of you carries evil magic into this holy place?"

Samina calmly met the iron-hard glare and pointed at Judeau.

"That'd be him. Show him, Judeau."

With a quick frown at the scar-faced woman, the scout did as he was told. The dwarf priest quickly strode up to them and grabbed Judeau's hand, raising his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

"Ho! This is... unusual."

He studied the burn mark for a while longer, making small, gargling sounds of concentration to himself. Then he released Judeau and met the scout's eyes with a piercing, contemplative, copper-colored gaze.

"That's a very serious curse you have there, manling. I can only bless you and temporarily take the effect away, but there's nothing I can do to dispel it. Nor anyone else, I believe."

"I know," he said, but was interrupted by Samina:

"We were wondering if it'll cause trouble tonight, considering it attracts demons and the undead."

The priest's eyes flicked from the bounty-hunter back to Judeau, and the blond scout nodded in confirmation. The dwarf's impressive eyebrows pulled down into another deep frown and he gave a drawn-out hum that was so deep and hoarse it was barely a human noise.

"I knew it was a beacon spell," he mumbled, "But if it's like that... Hmm. You'd better come with me, manling."

He turned and walked back through the small church towards the door he had stepped out of, and Judeau and Samina obediently followed. As they reached the door, however, the priest turned around and raised one eyebrow at the bounty-hunter.

"And you can stay here," he said, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. Samina doggedly stepped back and sat down on an intricately decorated chest that stood against the wall. The priest gave her a curt nod and led Judeau into the back room, closing the door behind them.

This room was a lot less decorated than the prayer room. It was lined with dwarf-sized benches, had one door on each wall and a complicated brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and that was it. The priest wasted no time in this 'waiting room,' but continued straight on through the door to the left.

As Judeau entered the new room, he immediately recognized the large, circular symbol on the floor: It was exactly the same as the one that Thirgynn had drawn up in the dirt around him in order to work his - no, _her_ - divination spell. The only difference being that this one was crafted in what appeared to be real gold and silver, permanently inlaid in the tiled marble floor.

"Sit," the priest commanded, pointing at the center of the circular design.

"Isn't this a magic symbol?" Judeau curiously asked as he sat down. "I thought you were a priest?"

The grizzled dwarf looked up and sent him a withering glare. "I am a priest. What do you think magic really is, manling?"

Judeau frowned inwardly and shrugged. He had to admit that he hadn't given that notion much thought. The priest went about arranging strange contraptions around the symbol on the floor, muttering hoarse chants under his breath. Judeau was pleasantly surprised when the bushy-browed dwarf kept talking between passes:

"Dwarf magic is the divine spark. Not like you surface-dwellers and that humbug tinkering with the elements that _you_ call magic. Dwarf magic is a gift from Vontar, a faint reflection of the power he used when he created and forged the world."

Judeau leaned his head in his un-branded hand and smiled slightly to himself. Now he understood why Thirgynn was called a 'miracle-worker.'

"So what's the difference?" he asked, since the priest didn't seem too averse to conversation. Not more than any other dwarf, at least. "Between miracle-workers and priests, I mean."

His reply was another bushy-browed frown. "Miracle-workers aren't priests."

Judeau nodded silently and heaved a small sigh. Of course.

The priest put the final nudge to something that most looked like a thick, giant glass disc in a metal frame and sat down in front of Judeau, closing his eyes in concentration. The scout felt his body begin to tingle faintly as the magic did whatever it was that it did to him, and after a while the tingle ceased and the priest's copper eyes opened again, to fix on Judeau's.

"Mmrrm." The scout wasn't sure whether the dwarf had just cleared his throat or tried to grunt affirmatively, but the deep, hoarse rumble carried on into words: "It is a very, very potent curse indeed, manling, but not potent enough to counteract all eight of the Great Runes. You may feel some disturbance - pain or itching or some such - but you are not in any danger as long as you stay inside the Hold. And where else would you go, heh? But I'm going to put a blessing on you, just to be thorough. I don't know how long it will last or how effective it will be since you are human, but I'm sure it will help in some small way."

Judeau nodded his thanks. "Can I get up or should I stay?"

The priest shook his head and motioned at him. "C'mere."

The scout gave him his branded hand and the red-bearded dwarf unceremoniously took it, drew a triangle around the burn mark with the tip of his finger while muttering something in dwarfish, and then covered Judeau's hand with both of his - it completely disappeared between the dwarf's meaty paws - and chanted quietly for a brief moment. Judeau felt a strange sensation build in his hand: it was like the heat from a forge and the icy chill of a mountain stream at the same time, and it shot up through his arm so suddenly that he almost jerked back.

The priest released him and nodded with satisfaction. "_Vontar hazt,_" he said, patting Judeau's arm. "The hand of Vontar is in everything, and everything is in the hand of Vontar."

Judeau flexed his fingers and stared down at the palm of his hand. The brand was gone without a trace, just as it had been during his time with the Healer, but this time he knew it was just an illusion. However, it was a very satisfying illusion and he found himself smiling as he flexed his fingers again. In fact, he felt great. His earlier weariness had all but evaporated and he felt strong, tough… unshakeable.

He slapped a hand down on the priest's broad shoulder and grinned.

"Thanks a lot! What do I owe you for this?"

"Well, if you're a craftsman, you can donate something you're proud of to the shrine… otherwise we do take money donations as well. Ten Ducarri or Vagorian silvers should be about enough. Or a Kumaraghian Sevenstar."

The scout nodded and gladly produced the ten Ducarri Silver Thrones – he would have had no problem with adding on a little extra considering how content he felt but something held him back, and the priest smiled for the first time in something remarkably close to approval.

"Alright, manling. I'm done with you. Off you go."

As he walked out into the prayer room where he had left Samina, the scar-faced woman shot him a slightly strange look before politely returning his smile.

"How did it go?"

He grinned wordlessly and showed her his palm. She brightened noticeably but when she looked up at him again, she still looked a little uncertain. He endured her quiet scrutiny for a moment before he finally had to ask.

"What?"

"You look… different. What did he do, really?"

"Different?"

"Yeah. Hm. Can't put my finger on it, but if I had to guess, I'd say 'more dwarf-like.' Yeah. Your eyes are a little bit… harder. I think."

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned in a conscious imitation of Taskkarr.

"Hmpf. You say that like it's a bad thing!"

That made her burst out in one of her hearty, full-throated laughs, and Judeau couldn't help but be pulled along. After a moment, she took a deep breath and pretended to wipe the tears from her eyes as she patted him on the shoulder.

"That would have been a lot creepier if you hadn't been smiling at the same time, blondie."

They walked back to Gorgoz' tavern, laughing all the way. Judeau decided that he really liked the sound of Samina's laugh – it didn't make excuses for itself, a sound that burst forth in nothing but genuine happiness and good humor, as startlingly sudden as it was heartfelt. Deeper and a bit throatier than her usual voice, it was easy on the ears despite its intensity. Samina and Caska had a lot in common, but Judeau had never heard the dark-skinned woman laugh like this, and he found himself wishing that he had – in retrospect, it felt so sad that he'd only ever heard her giggle, as if she couldn't or never let herself feel happy or secure enough to let loose with a good, full-blown laugh.

That thought dampened his mood a little bit as the two of them sat down in their alcove with two new ales before them, but he didn't let it show - which, by the way, was unusually easy to do tonight.

He still missed the Hawks something fierce when he allowed himself to think about them - or when the memories and the uncertainty snuck up on him if he relaxed too much - but there was no reason to dwell on it. There was nothing he could do to alleviate his own anxiety and find out about their fate, and in some ways maybe that was for the better. Truth be told, he wasn't at all sure of how he would react if he found out that they were all really gone.

But one thing at a time - for now, his main concern was to somehow get this curse permanently removed, and after that... After that, maybe he could start focusing on getting back to his own world, and only _then_ could he start thinking about finding out the fates of his old friends. One thing at a time.

The tavern had filled up a bit during the brief time they had been away and more people came as the evening wore on, gathering in the company room to slowly form the largest crowd that Judeau had seen in one place since he entered the Hold. Most of them were humans of different nationalities (though predominantly fair-skinned) and a few were dwarves who all loudly hailed Gorgoz and his equally raven-haired mate as they entered the tavern.

Zhorikk was the most female-looking dwarf Judeau had seen in the Hold, but mostly because she had certain noticeably 'female shapes' beneath her tunic. Apparently this for a dwarf very unusually shaped chest area, as well as all the noisy attention bestowed upon her and her mate, was all because she was pregnant with their first child - a big deal in dwarven society. Once she had carried it to term, she would have earned herself the honorary prefix "Von," literally meaning "Mother," to add onto her name, and her family would have gained a slight alleviation in societal standing. Something the two proudly grinning tavern hosts were very well aware of, and if Judeau was any good at guessing - and he was - then the obviously good health of the expectant mother was the main topic of conversation among the dwarven crowd.

At first, while people were still arriving and Judeau and Samina amused themselves by letting him guess the nationalities of the various guests, the mood was rather high and the noise levels as expected in a tavern full of people, but as the hours passed a more somber air quietly snuck up on the crowd. Voices lowered, smiles grew scarcer and more subdued, conversations more serious. Even the few children that some people had brought along fell into a hushed, if a bit sporadic, silence that could not only be attributed to sleepiness.

After a drawn-out lull in their own conversation, Samina absent-mindedly picked up a small leather pouch from one of her hidden pockets and fiddled a little with it when she began speaking again:

"It's begun now. The sun is traveling beneath the sea, and Bigmoon rests on the Sage's staff while Smallmoon approaches. Midnight is coming." She studied the little pouch in her hands and heaved a sigh. A little confounded by this sudden poeticism, Judeau frowned.

"...Samina?"

She looked up as if startled and almost immediately had a self-conscious smile on her face.

"Geez, Judeau, I'm sorry. I just tend to get a little emotional around times like these... and I'm also a long way from home. But," she added with shrug and a meaningful gaze around the room, "So are most of the people in here, I guess."

He followed her lead and let his eyes travel from face to face, noting how many of them were bowed down and how almost every one had a touch of sadness to it. The few conversations that were still carrying on had become reverently silent and seemed restricted to very sober subjects. A few people had closed their eyes and put their hands together as if in prayer, and Judeau thought about what Samina had said as if in passing earlier in the evening: "This is a night for remembering, both the dead and those still living. And for praying, if you wish. After all, the gods might be listening."

Judeau studied each face in turn, wondering what they were remembering, or praying for. Even the dwarves had fallen silent and as Gorgoz and Zhorikk quietly went about putting out all the lights in the room their angular, bearded faces seemed to gain in harshness. Were they thinking about the comrades lost in battle to the dark elves and their demons and trolls? And the dark, Kushan-like humans in the alcove over by the dying embers of the fireplace, were they praying for faraway family members that they may or may not ever see again? His eyes traveled back to his companion, who seemed to have once again forgotten about him and was gazing with a kind of wistful sadness down at the pouch in her hand, mouthing silent, indiscernible words to herself. Who was she remembering? Someone dead? Living? To who were those tenderly whispered words intended, and what meaning did they hold? She was such an integral part of his new life, and he knew so very little about her...

He leaned forward, quietly calling her name with the intention of asking her just where 'home' was, when suddenly the sound of the door opening and closing sent the whole room into a tense silence. All eyes turned towards the dark hallway, some of which expressed a fear so vivid that one could think they expected a vengeful ghost to step out of the shadows.

They were almost correct. Nevertheless, a wave of relief swept through the room, along with a few embarrassed smiles, as Steelwing's regal shape stepped through the doorway, his dilated pupils glowing faintly green in the darkness as he surveyed the company. Spotting Judeau and Samina, the tall elf silently strode over to them and sat down next to the bounty hunter.

"Steelwing," she whispered, her surprised smile audible. "You came."

"You wished me to, did you not?" His hushed, velvety voice was as unfeeling as always, but Judeau heard Samina's smile widen with a small puff of breath in reply.

"Thank you," she said, simply, and Steelwing said nothing more.

For some reason, the scout felt his heart sink in his chest. All around him, people were remembering, supporting each other in the face of loss or sending their thoughts to loved ones that would surely be thinking of them in return. Even Samina and Steelwing had each other in this darkness, and at least the bounty hunter seemed to have someone on the outside of this fortress to send her heart and well-wishes out to – but who would support him, if he were to give in to this reverent remembrance that so permeated the atmosphere? Who would understand the nature of his grief? The nightmares that had been haunting him? And how could he possibly explain any of it to anyone, beyond what little that he had already told them?

He sat perfectly still in the darkness of the alcove and watched as Samina and Steelwing exchanged silent looks of friendship and support, and for the first time in many, many years he felt truly alone.

It was a horrible sensation. His stomach sank away until there was nothing left in his abdomen but a dull ache, his throat tightened into a painfully hard knot that almost wouldn't let him breathe, and a terrible cold swept through his chest with such force it made his wrists tingle. His eyes felt dry and he tried to blink rapidly a few times but it didn't help. He had never cried in the company of others since the day he had decided to become a mercenary and joined Griffith, but he was closer to doing so than he could ever remember being before.

It was one of the worst moments of his life, but it was not over yet. The pain just kept growing in intensity, shooting lances of fire up through his frozen chest and out into his arms, pulsating in his fingertips. It reached a point where he could no longer accept that this overwhelming pain was only emotional in nature, and for a brief moment he feared he might be having a heart attack or something equally unexpected and lethal.

Teetering dangerously close to the brink of panic he tried to alert his two teammates to his condition, but the only sounds to escape his lips and tightly clenched throat were a few guttural chokes – he couldn't even move from his spot. To his relief, both of them immediately turned to him and he heard Samina's worried voice as if from a long distance:

"Judeau? Are you okay?"

He was just gathering his strength to give verbal communication one more try when suddenly all the pain exploded out into his left arm, and he dimly felt himself begin to fall sideways out of the alcove. Then another impression superimposed itself onto the pain and vertigo, and that was one of being utterly, horribly _exposed_.

He felt dozens, maybe hundreds of cruel eyes turn towards him and could sense their malevolence and ravenous hunger as their gazes raked over him like claws. Many very close, others much further away, but all intently watching him, reaching for him. Someone screamed and he didn't know who it was, but it kind of sounded like himself. The world closed in around him, rushing towards him with breakneck speed, and he flailed wildly to stop the horrible eyes from getting to him. His arms impacted on something that felt very far away and only barely real, but did nothing to stop the stampeding world.

As everything blasted past him he started to feel that maybe the hundreds of evil, hungry eyes wasn't the worst thing that could reach him here. Maybe something far more terrible waited at the end of this nightmare road. Something dark and cold and awfully familiar. He heard voices echo through the thundering void all around, voices he knew he should recognize, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. It sounded like some kind of warning, telling him to turn back, to stop, and he desperately wished he could heed it.

Then, abruptly, the speeding universe stopped and he found himself in darkness. Shades that he thought he should recognize hovered just at the very edge of his perception, and right before him, right in the middle of this oppressive, haunted darkness, two lights burned brightly. _Those who survived._ And somewhere, just above his head, something dark and cold and awfully familiar began turning its icy, sapphire blue eyes towards him. He jerked back with a hoarse shriek as he felt strong hands close around his wrists and pin him against a cold, hard surface and the next moment everything snapped around.

The darkness had instantly changed into something much more bearable and the shapes that moved through it were much more solid. The two lights were now small, greenish glowing circles that hung harmlessly in the air above him. The cold surface against his back was still cold and hard, but not threateningly so, and the hands that held him pinned down were relentless but not harmful. And the best part of it all was that all the hungry, malevolent eyes were gone, completely gone. He relaxed with an exhausted sigh and barely reacted to all the nonsensical noise around him.

When the darkness suddenly transformed into colors and light, he looked up again – but it felt so strange, like his eyes didn't quite follow the path he wished them to take. There were people all around him, most of which were very hairy, and it seemed like they were all shouting at him. He couldn't understand the words though he knew that he should, so he tried to smile disarmingly at the biggest one of them, the one with the long, pointy ears and no beard who was pinning him down, but he wasn't sure that his face muscles were doing what he told them to do.

"Judeau! Judeau! What happened?"

"I do not think he can hear you, though it does seem like he has calmed down."

"What are you longlings wasting time for? Get him to the priests, now!"

It did not make any sense. He couldn't understand a single syllable. But he felt himself hoisted up into the air and carried away through flickering darkness, and he assumed it was for the best. After all, there were still no evil eyes bearing down on him. A dark-haired woman with fair skin and a big scar across her face walked beside him as he floated on through the air, comfortably leaning against something firm and warm. The woman kept trying to talk softly to him and he didn't understand her, but the soothing sound of her hushed voice was nice to listen to, so he tried to smile again.

Her eyes held so much fear. He wished he knew who she was.

* * *

Reviewer Responses: 

**RisuMusume:** Good to know you haven't given up yet! I wait patiently as well. Meanwhile, here's your award for being so patient with me! Hope you liked.  
**Samurai xXx:** Here it is! Hope you enjoyed! Here are a few dwarven phrases for you, because you asked so nicely and because I have had way too much fun thinking these things up: "_Vontar hazt" -_Literally means "Vontar's hand" it's used in the same context as "Thank God" or "It's in God's hands now." "_Zuk'vaz" -_An abbreviation of "Safe rise, safe fall" that reads as something more like "up down." Difficult to translate. "_Mokkor" -_Literally "Edible (water creature)"  
**Pissy Abyssinian:** I'm so glad you were surprised, I was a little worried that everyone would just go "Huh. Yeah, I knew that..." And I'm sorry about all the Judeau-angst and kicking the beautiful blondie around, but, you know... he's got that nasty curse-thing going on... (is ashamed of herself) I will make it up to him!  
**Merina:** I am very honored to be compared to the great works of J. R. R. Tolkien, but I will not let that get to my head. (well... maybe just a LITTLE...) I take some of my inspiration from them. And yes, thank you again for the help. (smile)  
**Bladedancer:** Then who's fault was it? Hehe, hand me a Cappuchino!  
**NightWolf:** I will! Keep checking back!  
**Drachen:** Yeah, the pomade and the vanity really has nothing to do with her being a female, either. It's just a personality trait. Taskkarr is just as vain... No, really! And I'm glad you liked my little dark elf. (bows deeply) Thank you for letting me entertain you. (smile)


	20. Candlenight

Okay, here it is. It took me a while, but it's the longest chapter yet, so that'll have to be my excuse this time. I still don't own Judeau or anything "Berserk"-related. Now let's get this show on the road, already…

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Candlenight

Judeau stretched languidly and yawned. He felt wonderfully rested and could for once not remember having had a single nightmare all night. He heaved a contented little sigh and opened his eyes, only to find himself staring up into a beautifully decorated and entirely unfamiliar ceiling.

The realization slowly dawned on him that he did not know where he was or how he had got there, and a slight frown started forming on his face. He remembered waiting for the Night of Oaths with Samina, but somewhere around where Steelwing had shown up his recollection became fuzzy.

He looked around, searching for clues, and found himself lying on a pile of shaggy murvelbeast-furs (very warm and comfortable) in a large, bright room lined with dwarf-sized beds - all of them empty. Judging by the plentiful and elaborate decorations all over the white interior, he was in a previously unseen room of the shrine of Vontar. His frown deepened and he searched his memory for a reason for him to be there, and as he leaned back to stare up at his own patch of ceiling the mists clouding his mind gently dissipated. Not that that really helped in any way.

_What the hell was that?_ he thought, but the soft creak of a door opening interrupted any further considerations. He turned towards the sound and watched as the bushy-browed, gravel-throated priest from the day before stepped through the doorway, carrying a large tray stacked with food. Upon seeing Judeau awake the dwarf gave him a curt nod and walked over to put the tray down next to the makeshift bed.

"Good morning," Judeau chirped, trying to get a conversation going, but the priest merely grunted in reply.

"You hungry, manling?"

The unexpectedly enticing scents from the tray made Judeau's stomach vocally answer that question, and the blond scout put off asking any of his own for a little while yet, gratefully helping himself to the food as the priest looked on.

"Good," the dwarf rasped. "No loss of appetite. How do you feel?"

"I feel great, actually," the scout said, pausing for a moment as he blew on a spoonful of mushroom soup. "More rested than I think I've been in many years."

"Mrrm. Any headaches? Queasiness?"

"Nope. None."

"Very good." The priest nodded again, and then reached over and put his stubby fingers gently against Judeau's temples. A brief, refreshing chill swept through the scout and then the dwarf leaned back again. With the spoon still in his mouth, Judeau gave the priest a confused look.

"Just making sure there was no residue in there, manling. You seem to have recovered."

Judeau decided to jump at the opportunity and removed the spoon.

"Recovered from what? What exactly happened to me last night?"

The priest gave him a long, thoughtful look before answering:

"You suffered some magical backlash. That, beyond the assurance that it won't happen again is all I'm currently authorized to tell you."

"Magical...?"

"Backlash. Kind of like a spiritual whiplash injury." The priest heaved a drawn-out sigh and looked off to the side in deep, concentrated thought for a moment, before turning back to Judeau with a very direct glare. "Last night, a strong and unexpected surge of magical energy flowed into this Hold, and it happened to resonate with your curse. The energies fluxed and twisted through you in a way that they really shouldn't have. You were lucky, though - most who suffer that kind of charge end up with brain damage. Maybe my blessing softened the blow a bit, but I'm pretty sure it was fading at that point."

Judeau felt a thousand questions begin to form in his head, but before any of them had coalesced into anything concrete, the priest spoke up again:

"Do you remember what happened to you last night?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Everything."

"Tell me."

Judeau gathered his thoughts, exhaling slowly through his nose, and then recounted the strange experience to the best of his ability.

"...And then Steelwing carried me to you and you did that thing with my temples, and the next thing I know I wake up here, all rested and refreshed."

The priest furrowed his impressive brows. "I'm glad that you have full recollection. But that was..." He interrupted himself with a leisurely shrug. "Eh. It's not as though backlash hallucinations usually follow any kind of logical pattern."

Judeau decided it was his turn to ask a question. "So... this happens often?"

"Oh, by Durgin's hammer, no! But every single novice will, sooner or later, mess up a spell or a ritual. There's not a magic user in the world who haven't suffered some kind of magical backlash at some point in their lives. That's how you learn to be careful." The dwarf sent him a not unfriendly look and helped himself to a strip of dried and salted murvel-meat from the tray. "It's not something that would have happened to you otherwise, but with such a powerful curse... Well."

The priest was censoring himself, that much was obvious, and though Judeau burned to ask just what kind of 'unexpected' incident had set off his brand in such a way, he didn't want to risk angering the wizened dwarf. He thoughtfully looked down at his own hands and the soup and spoon therein, and immediately noticed that the brand had returned to his palm as if it had never been gone at all. He paused for a moment to send the thing a hateful glare.

_Would you give me a break? Just once?_

After a moment or so, the priest seemed to notice Judeau's respectful - albeit slightly moody - silence, and a warmer and a bit friendlier nuance entered his coarse voice:

"I heard you were attacked by a dark elf in that battle when you first came here," he rasped, "You can probably thank that rune for that incident, too. _Tchun'ni_ are also creatures of darkness, you know. Only a bit different from demons and undead in that they actually belong here, in this world."

"Really?" Judeau's frown deepened as he grimly thought back. He remembered the minotaurs that had attacked him, Shammael and the others in the forest as they were looking for Dusklilies, because the minotaurs didn't recognise Shammael without his Healer's aura - which had been cancelled out by this very curse. And before that, of course, the night that the brand had reappeared in the first place and managed to get him possessed by a ghost - an experience that still chilled him to remember… and all the sleepless nights during their travels, when ghosts and evil spirits had flocked to him… in fact, since the damn thing came into his life he had had nothing but pain and suffering. Especially if one included the nightmarish minutes after he had first received it.

"This thing," he growled, half to himself, "Is like a damn magnet for trouble, isn't it?"

The priest stilled beside him, the dried strip of meat half way to his lips. Judeau - suddenly reminded of the dwarf's presence - turned in surprise and met a genuinely confused, bushy-browed frown.

"Yes... isn't that _exactly_ what it is?"

Judeau had to hide his amused smile and embarrassment behind a slice of bread, fighting hard against the urge to snicker at the dwarf's innocent honesty.

"You... you're right. So very right. I'm sorry, that was a silly thing to say."

The priest rumbled something about strange longlings but did not comment further, and Judeau's mirth was short-lived. He soon went back to staring at the brand again, silently cursing his curse and all the pain that it had brought him.

And there was another thing that added to his growing sense of frustration: He had certainly been on equal terms with his new friends in every minor battle they'd run across on their travel, but it seemed that as soon as something major occurred, he was suddenly made helpless. It was always him who kept getting saved, getting patched up, waking up to an unfamiliar ceiling – and he was, in all honesty, getting royally fed up with it.

All his life he had felt as though he was being a background actor to someone else – he had even resolved to accept that and make it a lifestyle, once – but everyone had a limit and his had finally, conclusively, been reached. He had had enough of relying on others to reach the goals he aimed for, had had enough of just supporting and helping other people only to be overlooked at every turn, and had definitely had enough of feeling so weak and of being such a damn victim all the time. Steelwing had told him that he could be more than he thought, and damn it, the elf was right about that! These last months of hard training and noticeable progress had proven as much, and there were no more excuses for weakness. Like this.

It was high time to break this destructive habit. In this moment, as the resolve burned and tightened in his chest, Judeau looked back at himself and wondered who that person was. That guy who was so complacent and inherently dependant, who gave up on himself just because he ran into someone who was better than him. That guy who so readily surrendered all ambition of his own so he could ride on someone else's wave. Who was that? Right here, right now, it didn't feel like himself at all.

But the truth, the harsh, complicated truth of the matter was that that was exactly how he had lived his life up to this point. And it would never change unless he made that change himself.

He clenched his hand around the brand as if he could somehow squeeze the demonic rune out of existence if he just tried hard enough, and his jaw clenched in frustration. He wanted a change, a new way to live, more than anything, but how would he make that happen as long as this cursed brand remained on his body, like a reminder of all that he had been and just how all his efforts had paid off?

Like a punishment for all the chances he had passed up.

"Grow stronger."

Surprised, Judeau looked up at the sound of the deep, hoarse voice - again, he had completely forgotten about the dwarf priest. Pale copper eyes met his with the sincere directness that was typical for the dwarven race, albeit with a much more compassionate tint to it than he had ever seen in the short, bearded men before. It took an instant for the priest's raspy words to register in his mind.

"'Scuse me, what?"

"Just now, you were worrying about how to live with that curse, weren't you? And it's simple: You just have to grow stronger, until you are strong enough to not let it govern your life anymore."

Judeau stared at the priest, taking in the honesty, the firm dwarven confidence that he radiated with every wrinkle and rough angle of his bearded face, and realized with a tentatively rising sense of… well, he wasn't really sure yet, but it was making his heart beat faster - that it actually, truly was that easy. At least in theory.

Just like that, he had his answer, and maybe he had had it all along.

Judeau felt the expression on his face change and found himself grinning at the priest. If Steelwing would for some reason decide to rethink his decision not to ask about Judeau's motivation for training under him, the scout would now have an answer to give. _I want to get stronger,_ he thought, _so that I can change my fate and take charge of my life. For me. That's all, really._

"Yeah," He said to the priest, his voice subdued by the strong feeling of resolve that filled up his chest and almost made him giddy. "You're right. That's exactly what I'm going to do." His grin split with wolf-like excitement. "I'm not going to let this beat me. I'm taking back my life."

The priest's coppery eyes reflected something of the strong, exciting resolve that shone through Judeau's, and he gave the human a proud nod.

"Now," he rasped, "You're talking like a dwarf!"

o

Judeau still had a spring in his step as he left the Shrine of Vontar a little while later, heading back to the tavern with his head buzzing of half-formed thoughts and firm decisiveness. He happily returned all the smiles and greetings that he got on his way, until it finally worked through his busy head that something was odd about this general spirit of congeniality all around.

He slowed down and took a good look at his surroundings, noticing among other things the significant lack of dwarves. Also, all the humans on the streets - and there were noticeably more of them than usual - hurried around carrying bundles and baskets of different shapes and sizes, but despite the hectic pace, not one seemed stressed or bothered in the slightest. Everyone was smiling and sending quick greetings and well-wishes to one another as they passed each other in the street. Indeed, the words that were most often used were in fact "I wish you well," or in a few instances the more complicated "I wish you a bright new future."

Not quite so narcissistic as to believe that an entire city was celebrating his own personal revelation, Judeau frowned and resumed his brisk walk back towards the tavern. He assumed he would get a proper explanation once he met up with the scar-faced bounty hunter again.

As he entered the tavern's small hallway, he immediately noticed the air of silence and emptiness that leaked out of the company room, and as he entered it he found that it was indeed practically deserted except for Gorgoz himself, who was conscientiously sweeping the floor. The dwarf looked up when Judeau stepped into the room, and gave him an onyx-eyed once-over.

"Recovered already?"

"Yup." Judeau smiled and thumped his own chest for emphasis. "Fit for fight."

Gorgoz raised one eyebrow in amusement and then returned his attention to the broom. "Good for you. Happy new future or whatever you say - Now go on, I must finish this before I go."

"Okay. Same to you. Where's Samina?"

"In his room, I suppose."

Judeau nodded his thanks and descended the stairs that led to the living quarters, smiling slightly to himself. Gorgoz had a very thick dwarven accent and often got his pronouns mixed up, apparently because he belonged to a clan of dwarves who usually didn't live so close to the surface and therefore spoke a lot more dwarfish amongst themselves. However, Samina didn't seem to mind being called a 'he' every now and then and never bothered to correct the dwarf, but Judeau still found it a bit amusing at times.

It took the bounty-hunter a moment to answer his quiet knock, and as the door cracked open a surprisingly warm, soft glow poured out into the hallway and outlined the black-haired woman's contours. She blinked at him in surprise at first, but then her face lit up in a brilliant, genuine smile.

"Judeau!"

He returned her smile and spread his arms to show himself off a bit better. "The very same."

For a moment it looked like she was going to say something else, but she found herself and her smile changed - in a subtle way that Judeau only noticed because he had spent a lot of time with her - and suddenly there was that indefinable barrier between them again.

"Looking good, too," she said. "What a relief. The priest said he didn't know when or even if you would recover. Come in! We've been very worried about you."

Judeau curiously stepped into the room, expecting to see the Crusader sitting by the little table, but there was no one else in the room.

"We?"

"Well, okay, at least I have. But I'm sure Steelwing would like to know that you're okay, too."

Judeau nodded, not entirely convinced himself, and let his eyes sweep over the room again. "Sure... but hey, what's with all the candles? Could this possibly have anything to do with all the 'best wishes' I've gotten today?"

"Oh, right," Samina snapped her fingers and walked over to the wall-mounted little table to light the candle she held in her hand on one of the five that already burned there. "I forgot to tell you about that, too. Tonight is Candlenight. We celebrate the return of the light, eat lots of good food, dance, sing, tell stories, make plans and wishes for the future and light lots of candles to help drive away the darkness of winter and the lingering ghosts and fears of the Night of Oaths." She placed the candle on the small shelf above the bed and sent the scout another radiant smile. "In a nutshell. Sit down, you make me feel restless when you stand around like that."

Judeau pulled out one of the two chairs and sat down by the table, frowning as a previously unthought-of concern presented itself:

"Samina," he asked, "What time of day is it?"

"Already past sunset, sleepyhead," she said, sitting down herself. "Didn't the priest tell you?"

"Ah. Nope." He smiled again. "I hope I haven't missed too much of the... festivities?"

Samina chuckled and gestured self-consciously at the rather barren, candlelit room. "Well, most people would have been sleeping late, considering yester night, so this would be the time when things really started going on... but if you're looking for a party I'm afraid you've come to the wrong floor. I didn't know you were going to get better so fast, so I was just thinking I'd spend a nice, quiet Candlenight by myself, for once. I might have visited you," she added with a dash of mischievous sarcasm as he gave her an uncertain look, "You know, to see if you were even conscious yet - if I'd got bored or something. Maybe."

"Oh, should I leave, then?"

"No, no, no. I'm just kidding. I was planning to go see you later, really. Look-" From under the table, Samina produced a medium-sized basket the kind of which Judeau had seen carried around by many people today. "-I even packed some feast-food for you, in case you were awake and could eat."

Judeau beamed at her. "That's very kind of you, Samina. Thanks a lot."

"You want some?"

The strain of her strong arm as she carefully put the basket back down onto the floor made Judeau raise an eyebrow at the scar-faced woman.

"No thanks, not right now. But is all that food really just for the two of us? Or are you expecting Steelwing for later tonight, again?"

Samina's fingers did a lightning-quick tap dance against the tabletop and she didn't look up at him right away. Oh yeah - she was smart and good at hiding what she didn't wish to show, but some things invariably caught her off-guard and shone through all of her defences as if there weren't any in the first place. It was really quite cute - much like how Caska had always blushed and smiled and fumbled a bit whenever Griffith had commended her or smiled at her in that glorious way of his.

"Nah," she said after a moment, still not really meeting his eyes. "He did more than I expected by just coming for the Night of Oaths, and he's really not that big on Candlenight at all... Kind of has more to remember than to hope for..." her voice trailed off and quietened as if in embarrassment, then she quickly cleared her throat and started over, sounding a lot more chipper:

"But it's part of the tradition to have too much food on the table, otherwise there wouldn't be any leftovers for the poor. 'Sides, if we are to stay awake 'til dawn again, we'll probably get hungry in intervals."

Judeau blinked at her. "Poor? What poor? As far as I can tell there are only respectable businesspeople in here. In fact, it might actually be the cleanest city I've ever seen."

She smiled. "Yeah, you're right about that. But then it is really just a huge trade station. No, I was thinking more about a fine old Candlenight tradition they have in the country of Laravale, where the elected Princess of Light walk through the city around midnight and distribute donated food to the poor. It's so beautiful. The Princess - usually the prettiest young maiden or some Freya priestess, it's kind of a popularity contest of the most beautiful or most kind - gets to wear a crown of candles, and everyone who was nominated get to walk in her entourage, carrying the food and a lit candle each, and everyone wears pristinely white robes. They almost look like angels. You should try to see it, some day."

Judeau smiled. "It sounds beautiful." Feeling brave, he tilted his head to the side and indulged his curiosity: "Is that where you're from?"

"No," she said, chuckling quietly. "I wish. No, I was born in Vagoria. Since then I've been around the world basically as much as a person can be without crossing the ocean, and nowadays I live in Kumaragh when I'm not travelling. I'm not even sure of where I'm supposed to be 'from,' anymore."

Very much like Samina, both answering and not answering the question at the same time. Not willing to let her off the hook just yet, Judeau gently pushed the issue. "Kuma...? Isn't that..."

Always eager to fill in his geographical blanks, Samina happily cut him off: "The magicracy, yes. Home of the city of mages, the Academy – and this, incidentally, is precisely where I have my little nest." She smiled, and her eyes glittered in amusement. "Don't look so surprised. It's only common sense to live in a place where it's easy to get well-paying jobs when you do what I do for a living, and magicians usually have special needs that warrant extra high fees. And-" she cleared her throat and winked at him. "-I'm kind of specially equipped to handle those kind of jobs. All is fair in war and business - Special skills are there to profit from, right?"

He raised an eyebrow and sent her a lopsided smile in return. "Oh really? And here I was just thinking of how expensive it must be to buy a place in the Academy, of all places..."

"Well yeah, but... not really. It's just two rooms, anyway - I've made the money back since then. The taxes are not that bad, and I do have a little help..." She fell silent so suddenly that Judeau immediately understood that she had let slip something she hadn't wished to share. Normally, he would let it be and respectfully change the subject as if he hadn't noticed anything, but today he felt like taking chances.

"You keep doing that," he said softly after a moment's thoughtful silence, and she looked up in pretend surprise.

"Hm? Do what?"

"Stop talking in the middle of a sentence when you're about to share something. It's like you can't decide on whether to trust me or not." Before she had a chance to reply, he gave her a small smile and continued, still very softly: "It's not quite fair, you know. We've been friends for months now, and I know hardly anything about you. I like you, Samina, and I'd like to be your friend, but it's getting a bit difficult with this... barrier between us."

For a moment the look of innocent incomprehension lingered on her face, but then she looked away and allowed the 'mask' to disintegrate. Heaving a small sigh, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and then clasped her hands on the table in front of her.

"I'm not really good at letting people in, I know," she said in a soft voice, "And if I've made you feel left out or insulted you, then I'm sorry for that. It wasn't my intention. I actually like you too, and... I suppose I could be a bit more relaxed around you. After all, I do believe that you're reliable." She looked up and smiled a warm, genuine smile. "I do trust you - I'm just not very used to that. I'd like to be a better friend to you, Judeau."

He returned her smile with just as much honesty, himself. "I'm glad."

A brief silence unfolded in the room, but then the bounty hunter sent Judeau a sharp look and a knowing smile.

"This has been bothering you for a while, Judeau. Why bring it up tonight?"

Caught a bit off-guard, he shrugged. "Why not?"

She chuckled quietly. "You know, this works both ways. I don't really know much about you, either, and you haven't exactly been keen on sharing. You know about my Birthright and I know that you're from another world, so I'd rather think we're on equal terms, here. If I start to share, so should you."

Blinking in surprise, Judeau watched the warm candlelight play over Samina's asymmetrical features, adding an extra glint to her eyes, and realised that she was absolutely right. He had wanted to know about her, where she was from, if she had a family of some sort and so on - not only out of curiosity but also because it would help him feel more familiar in this new world. However, now that he thought about it, it was perfectly natural that Samina wanted to know the very same things about him to get a 'feel' for a completely different world that she would never otherwise experience.

And he really hadn't been very keen on sharing. The wounds had been too fresh, and he had been too caught up in his own loss to even consider voluntarily talking about any of it before. All things considered, she had been a real good sport about the whole thing.

"Touché." He smiled, humbly bowing his head. "What would you like to know?"

The fact that he didn't offer any arguments and was even willing to be the first to break the barrier between them seemed to subdue her, and she regarded him thoughtfully with an unreadable, almost expressionless look on her face for a while.

"What has happened to you today?" she finally murmured curiously, her eyes narrowing a bit. "I knew there was something different about you since you stepped through the door... But what is it?"

Judeau felt the strong excitement of resolve well back up inside him and couldn't help but grin. Of course it was visible on the outside to someone trained to notice such things, like Samina, but the fact that she _had_ noticed did in some way feel like an acknowledgement of the validity of his newfound resolution.

"I... have reached a decision," he said, thinking carefully on how to phrase himself. "You know how it might take a very long time before we can get this curse off of me, right?"

She nodded. Judeau forged on:

"Well, I've been kicked around enough by it already, and last night was the final straw. It really struck me that I'm going to have to live with these kind of things for the foreseeable future, so... I'm going to get stronger from now on. That's all, really. I've decided to face the ugly reality and, well, live with it. Really _live_ with it, if you know what I mean." He sent her a grin across the candles. "You guys have taken care of me enough. I'm taking my life and well-being into my own hands now."

An odd smile spread out over her face and she leaned forward very slightly, leaning her chin against her fist as she watched him with strangely glowing eyes. Then she murmured quietly, almost entirely to herself: "I knew it. You're a phoenix."

Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious all of a sudden, Judeau blinked and sent her a confused frown, but she completely ignored it and straightened up in her seat.

"Okay, my turn." She fished up the little leather pouch that she had held with such reverence the night before from its hidden pocket and opened it, spilling its contents out onto the table. Judeau curiously picked up one of the four grey little objects and studied it more closely. It was a tiny stone figurine, not bigger than the first two joints of his index finger, exquisitely carved out of soap-stone into the shape of a willowy young boy with a serious face.

"Wow," he marvelled at the little masterpiece. "What's this?"

"These," Samina said as she lined the other figurines up in front of herself, "Are my trash kids. Or, well, _these_ are just the replicas of them that Steelwing made for me."

Judeau put the little boy down next to the others and picked up another, slightly bigger one. This one was also a boy, heavily built and slightly deformed, as it seemed.

"Steelwing made these? And _what_ were they, again?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Surprising, isn't it? Mr Steel Face is actually good at something other than swordplay! And like I said, they are my trash kids. Children that nobody else cares about - orphans and outcasts - but who really only need a proper chance to become something great and worthwhile. These are the ones that caught my attention and left me no choice but to give them that chance."

He looked up in honestly dumbstruck surprise at the scar-faced bounty hunter. "You take care of orphans, Samina? I had no idea..."

"No, not really," she interrupted, frowning slightly as her fingers did another quick tap dance on the tabletop. "I help them to take care of themselves. But I do let them live in my rooms - I'm away so much, anyway... provided, of course, that they pay most of the taxes themselves."

"Children this small?" Judeau asked, studying the third statue which was of a very small, smiling girl. She looked to be four, maybe five years old. "How do they earn money for rent?"

"Oh, these figures are old, they've grown a bit since then. But, well, I have certain connections - especially in the Academy, so I get them apprentice spots that pay with money instead of food and lodgings." She cleared her throat again and frowned sternly at him. "If they are to get anywhere at all in this world they need to learn how to handle real money and how to use them to take care of each other. I firmly believe that, and so far it's working out nicely." Then she softened some and sent him another strange, kind of secretive little smile as she continued, "But then, they _are_ phoenixes."

Judeau wryly raised an eyebrow in response, holding back any further comments on her strange and unexpected foster-motherhood for the time being. "Okay, I'll bite - again: What do you mean by that? I thought the phoenix was some kind of mythical bird?"

Samina nodded, still with the same secretive little smile on her face. "It is. Do you know the story of the phoenix?"

"Yeah. Isn't it immortal or something?"

The scar-faced woman shook her head and looked down at the four little figurines before her, fussing a bit with them before speaking again: "The phoenix is not immortal. In fact, it is a very frail creature - but each time it dies, it is reborn again. Every Candlenight, I tell these kids the story of the phoenix, whether I'm there with them or far away, like now. I know Tann is probably telling it to the others right about now, so if you don't mind, I'd like to start. After that, I promise I'll explain what I mean when I call someone a 'phoenix'."

Surprised yet again, Judeau couldn't help a warm smile spreading out onto his face. "You do this together, like a coordinated event? That is... unbelievably cute. Really. Samina, this is a side of you I've never seen before. These kids must really mean a lot to you."

She shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat, muttering something about being the only one they (presumably the children) had and that certain routines were good for them, and then she took a deep breath, noticeably collected herself, and started telling her story without further ado.

"Once upon a time," she begun quietly, not looking up from the four soap-stone children on the table, "There was a city. The people who lived in this city were very happy and well-off, because it very rarely happened that the surrounding land was struck by draughts or floods, and commerce was always booming. The people said amongst themselves that all their good fortune was because of the phoenix, the big, beautiful bird with feathers of all the colours of the rainbow, that nested in their land. They called it the Bird of Fortune and were very careful to make sure they treated it right, so that it would never fly away from them.

But the king who lived in the city was not at all happy with this. He lived in constant fear that the bird would one day choose to fly away from his kingdom, and never come back, and the thought of losing all the good fortune of the land left him no rest.

Perhaps, the king thought one day, the bird could be tamed - then his kingdom would have eternal fortune and his royal self would never have to suffer another night of fitful sleep.

So the king sent all his trappers and hunters out to capture the phoenix, and spent a fortune on building a large, gilded cage for it in his royal garden. But the bird was not easy to catch - only when two months had already passed did the trappers and hunters finally return with the beautiful bird, larger than an eagle but with a neck as long as that of a swan and with every colour of the rainbow on its shimmering feathers, tightly bound and shackled. And half of them were gone, never to return, for they had upon seeing the magnificent bird felt so ashamed of what they had come to do, and been filled with such an inexplicable dread at what would happen if they succeeded, that they had promptly turned away from their king's orders and fled the country.

But the king was happier than ever. He brought the bird out into his royal garden and showed it the gilded cage.

'Look what a nice home we have made for you,' he told the bird. 'And you will never have to want for anything ever again! You will get the finest food and all the fresh spring water you could drink, and many servants who will wait on your every need! Now you will never want to leave us!'

But the phoenix merely lifted its graceful neck and looked at the cage, and let out a single sound of such utter grief that more than half of the remaining trappers and hunters had to turn their faces away in shame, and some of them quietly snuck away when no one was looking their way. For they saw, just as the phoenix did, that no matter how large or how gilded it was, the cage was still a cage.

Not even the king was unmoved by the sadness in the phoenix' voice, but he smiled and comforted himself, thinking that it would merely take some time for the bird to adapt to its new life. Then it would surely realise how fortunate it was.

So he locked the bird in the cage and hung the key around his own royal neck, and rewarded the remaining trappers and hunters generously for their deed, and that night he slept soundly for the first time in many years.

And the legend proved true: Fortune seemed to flock to the court as soon as the phoenix had been captured, as the princess, who had been suffering an illness since very early in her life suddenly became healthy, and accepted the proposal of a prince from a neighbouring country. This made commerce increase even more than before, and sent many dignitaries from other places to the court for the wedding, giving the king many excellent chances for diplomacy - and somehow it came to be that every deal struck within the castle walls later turned out to be very profitable for the king.

The king happily showed off his beautiful bird to anyone who wished to see it, but most left the cage feeling vaguely unsatisfied, for the phoenix just sat there at the top of a magnolia tree and looked up at the sky through the golden bars. It never sang, never looked down, and hardly even moved.

But still, the beautiful bird was the talk of the city, and all dignitaries commended the king on owning such an exquisite animal. The king was very happy, and for a while, everyone lived happily in the country.

But then spring came, and the first flood of many years struck the land. Fortunately, the king and everyone who lived in the city benefited from all the new trade agreements and hardly even noticed the problem, but the people further out in the country were much more hard pressed. They started saying to each other that since the king had taken the phoenix to him, the fortune had fled those who were too far from the caged bird. But they were few and far away, and nobody paid much heed to their complaints.

The king was far more concerned about his bird, for the phoenix' retainers were telling him that the bird had almost stopped eating entirely, and its beautiful feathers were starting to look dull. And still, the bird would not leave the top of the magnolia tree, nor look away from its view of the sky.

Then spring turned to summer, and drought followed the flood. Still the people in the city did not suffer in any way, but farmers all over the country felt the effect. Creatures started dying, and the crop failed. Fields lay brown and barren everywhere, and the whispers that the king had stolen all the good fortune in the land when he captured the phoenix became angry statements. Resentment seethed in the country, but the king told his people not to worry, that fortune hadn't deserted them - after all, thanks to his profitable trade agreements, he could provide food for most of them during this hard time. So some of the city's resources were redistributed to the rest of the country, and the protests stopped.

But the people were not happy, for now they all starved - Even the ones in the city who had done so well during the spring. But the king was too busy worrying about his phoenix to pay any attention to such matters: the bird had started to lose its feathers and looked truly pitiful now, as every feather that fell had been robbed of its colours. Dull grey feathers littered the ground beneath the magnolia tree, and the scruffy phoenix itself had started hanging its head, no longer gazing up at the sky. It looked so tired, pitiful and sad that the king could no longer show off his treasure to the visiting dignitaries.

Autumn followed summer, and with the cold came a terrible illness that swept through the country like wildfire. But even when the people in the city suffered and died from the disease, not a single one of those who lived in the castle seemed affected. The resentment that had grown in silence all through the summer now blossomed and spread as rapidly as the disease itself.

'The king has betrayed us,' the people said to each other. 'He sits safe in his castle with his precious bird. The bird that he stole from us! If it weren't for him, we would not be suffering like this! Everyone knows that it was the bird who gave us our good fortune, and the king just couldn't stand the thought that everyone could have an equal share!'

The king's advisors tried to tell him about the restlessness of his people, and some even advocated that the phoenix should be set free again to silence the protesters, but the king would not listen to them.

'Set my bird free?' he said to them, 'I can not do that! Look at him, he is sick. What he needs is care, not freedom. In fact, I am certain that the misfortune that has befallen us is because my phoenix has fallen ill. What marvellous luck that I captured him when I did! Just imagine what would have happened if he had died, untreated, out there!"

So the king summoned all his doctors and healers and promised great rewards to the man who managed to cure the phoenix, assuring them as well as his reluctant advisors that as soon as the phoenix was cured, fortune, happiness and health would again return to the land.

But the phoenix would not let itself be cured. It remained in the magnolia tree, its head hanging limply and its remaining feathers slowly but noticeably turning more grey and dull by the day.

Then winter came, and the king who ruled the country next to the country of the phoenix made a decision. For many years he had envied the land of the phoenix its good fortune and rich crops, but he had never really thought it was all thanks to the bird. But now, after all that had happened to his neighbour in the past year since the phoenix was captured, he had become more and more certain that the old tale was indeed true. This excited him to no end, because he knew that what had once been captured could be recaptured, and if he could possess the phoenix for himself, then all the fortune he had envied for so long would finally be his.

So when the people's resentment towards the king of the land of the phoenix was at its peak, and the winter would make the hunger-stricken soldiers weak and tired, the neighbour king invaded the land of the phoenix with a strong and well-prepared army. His aim was the phoenix itself, but he was not so unambitious that he wouldn't take this chance at possessing the entire country at the same time.

And as battle raged across his lands, the king of the land of the phoenix locked himself in his castle, pressuring all his doctors and healers to quickly heal his bird so that fortune would return to them. For by now, the king had become so obsessed with the phoenix' health that he thought if he just got the bird well again, everything would immediately turn back to the way it was, with no hunger, no illnesses and no invading army.

But the phoenix had tucked its head under its wing, leaned itself heavily against the magnolia tree and stopped eating altogether. One of the doctors made a last attempt to reason with the king, as the hostile army had almost reached the city itself.

'Your bird is very ill, my lord,' he said. 'But it has nothing to do with its body. It is an illness of the heart. It can be cured, but only by giving him back what he has lost. You must give him free, my lord, or he will die from grief.'

But the king was only enraged by this and had the doctor thrown out of the castle, along with everyone who agreed with him. Even as the conquering army swept through the city itself, he stood beneath the magnolia tree and begged the phoenix to get better fast. And the bird just sat there with its head tucked under its wing, dead to the world.

But when armies conquer cities, everything is very confused and many people are panicking, and since it was winter, a lot of fires were lit throughout the city. Frightened people grabbed torches to fend the enemy off, dropped lanterns filled with oil and accidentally ran through the flames, kicking embers into hay and cloth all around. Pretty soon the whole city was so much ablaze that the invading army had to retreat - the castle that was their goal was completely surrounded by flames.

Fortunately, one of the oldest servants in the castle knew of a secret underground passage, and so everyone in the castle managed to escape the furious firestorm. All, except for the king. His retainers begged him to leave with them, to realise that the battle was lost and that the phoenix had failed them, but he refused to listen to them. When they tried to drag him away from the cage by force, the king fought them all off and locked himself in the cage with the dying bird. He would not let go of the thought that if he could just get the phoenix' attention, all of his problems would immediately be solved.

Even as the servants ran from the flames, and the gilded cage started to collapse from the heat, they heard the mad king's desperate, raving pleas to the motionless bird.

Everyone gathered outside the city to watch it burn, merchants and aristocrats, priests and paupers, mothers, children and soldiers, all huddled together in terrified awe of the raging firestorm. And then, at the peak of the flames' fury, they all witnessed how the great castle collapsed in on itself, and a single flame leapt high into the air as if to escape the devastation below.

Children wept and their mothers choked back tears as they tried to comfort their young. Soldiers stared melancholically at how their great conquest went up in flames. Men dropped, crestfallen, to their knees, watching their homes burn to the ground. But then someone pointed to the sky and one by one they all looked up.

The lone flame that had leapt so high into the sky when the castle fell still hung there, suspended in the air, and as everyone watched it seemed to grow in size. Only when someone cried out in terror did they all realise that the huge ball of flames was actually hurtling their way, and they begun a desperate rush to get out of its path.

The crowd was chaotic at first, screaming and pushing each other to escape the roaring fire, but very soon, almost as abruptly as it had started, the mad scramble slowed to a confused halt. Every head turned towards the bright projectile and an expression of wonder came to every face, because the fire did not roar. The sound that reached the stricken people was something else entirely - a sound, a song, a wordless melody and an emotion all at once. It filled their hearts and soothed their souls. It spoke of life, of freedom, and of overwhelming happiness, in words no one could grasp or define but that everyone could understand.

And the flames passed over them without burning, and just when it was right above the crowd the fires flared up and died away, and in their stead, like a butterfly that had finally burst free of its cocoon, was the phoenix. It spread its magnificent wings and stretched out its long, graceful neck and flew on, its feathers shining with every colour of the rainbow - more brightly than ever before - without ever breaking off its beautiful, wordless song.

And the soldiers suddenly smiled, because even though their greatest prize had slipped through their fingers, they realised that they had indeed conquered an entire country, and what was more: They were all so fortunate as to still be alive.

And the men suddenly smiled, for even if they had lost their houses and their jobs, they still had a pair of good hands and their health, and they remembered that houses can always be rebuilt and that many good hands would be needed to repair the fallen city, and they took their families into their arms and thanked the gods that they were alive and well.

And the mothers suddenly smiled, because their children - in all their innocent wisdom - were laughing out loud with the sheer joy of being alive, and of having seen something so remarkable and beautiful as the phoenix.

And the rest is, as they say, history. The people rebuilt their city and accepted the neighbour king as their new ruler, and the new king reigned well over them all, and although no more great tragedy or war struck them for a very long time, the country was never again remarkably fortunate in any way.

And the phoenix was never again found nesting in those lands."

Judeau sat in silence, having watched with almost transfixed fascination as the scar-faced bounty hunter had slowly gotten caught up in her own story. Her face had gradually softened and her voice had changed, and after a while she had even started animating the tale with expressive hand gestures and different voices. The scout exhaled slowly through his nose, unknowingly making as little noise as possible, and watched the warm glow of her odd-coloured eyes, heard the gentle softness of her voice and noted the unmistakable excitement in her movements and gestures. There was little doubt that Samina truly enjoyed storytelling - or maybe just telling this particular story - and Judeau found that he just could not stop smiling at her.

When Samina decided to start sharing, she sure didn't hold back. She was showing him a whole new side of herself, that he had honestly never had a clue to before. He had known, of course, that she had a soft heart, but to think of her as such a warm, motherly and awkwardly poetic storyteller was quite beyond his scope. He could never have thought that she would show him something so intimately private, so suddenly - it was not consistent with the image he had perceived of her up to this point.

Judeau felt almost frightened, as if he had been let into a sacred chamber without having been told what he could and could not do to avoid committing some sort of sacrilege - but more than that, he was really happy. An emotion that bordered on exhilaration.

Watching her through the shimmering air above the candles, Judeau found himself once again drawing parallels between the scar-faced bounty hunter and Caska of the Hawks. Caska had also had a soft, gentle heart, so much more vulnerable than she would ever let on. To protect that gentle heart from the hard life of a soldier, she had always projected a tough, masculine image, that in fact didn't really match who she was on the inside. And she would never let anyone into that "sacred chamber" of hers, keeping all softness and gentleness - beyond that rare, shy smile of hers - to herself with such fierce determination that it was clear to anyone who cared to notice that she was afraid and ashamed of that part of herself. She had devoted herself to Griffith, heart and soul, and since he didn't want her as a woman, she had shunned that aspect of herself as well, probably thinking that that would make him appreciate her better. Judeau had always found that so very sad - and, in the end, despite his foolish dreams and efforts, it had not been him who had finally managed to lure that warm kindness out of her.

But Samina had confided in him, showed him her femininity in all its warmth and vulnerability without holding back, and he was feeling very grateful - along with a strong sense of obligation to her now: How could he possibly repay that kind of trust? And why had she chosen to confide so in him in the first place?

Well, a good start as to answer either question would probably be to actually say _something._ Samina was still looking down at the soap-stone children and seemed to have forgotten all about him.

"That was a beautiful story." Surprised at the subdued softness of his own voice, Judeau quickly had to suppress the urge to clear his throat in embarrassment as the bounty-hunter looked up and met his eyes - but the honest, brilliant smile on her face caught him by even more surprise and he remained still, chin resting in one hand.

"I know." Her voice still had that melodious warmth in it. She looked down again and fussed a bit more with the figurines as she spoke. "And I know it's supposed to be some sort of moral story, like 'fortune can't be governed' or 'he who tries to have everything will lose it all' or something like that, but ever since the first day I heard it, I've always been more fascinated with the idea of the phoenix itself. Such a frail creature, that will die of grief just from being put in a cage, yet so very strong, and so powerful, in that it can turn utter disaster into a glorious rebirth... And what more: It can inspire others to do the same. I mean, talk about 'rising from the ashes of destruction'."

She paused, lifting one of the soap-stone figurines up to her face for closer scrutiny. It was another little girl, who was almost as serious-faced as the lanky boy. Sensing that the bounty hunter had more to say, Judeau waited quietly until she began speaking again. He felt confused, as if he understood something without yet knowing precisely what.

"That story inspired me once," Samina said quietly, "And now I tell it to these kids, hoping it inspires them too. They're all like I used to be, too young to take their lives into their own hands but still determined to do it rather than to just lie down and die. Fate has dealt them all a cruel hand - Like Ninna here, who lost her entire family in a bandit raid - but they have decided to play it anyway and try to turn disaster into triumph. And that's why they are phoenixes. Do you understand?"

Still smiling, albeit perhaps a bit dazedly, Judeau nodded at her. "'Rising from the ashes of destruction.' I get it. Now that I know the story, that's a good analogy."

She smiled back and carefully put the little figurine in the bag, letting the others follow as she spoke. "Good. I rather like it, myself. It may be a little pretentious, but even people like me or these kids should get to feel pretentious sometimes, shouldn't we? 'Sides, it makes for good motivation."

"Yeah, I guess so," Judeau mumbled, but in truth he hadn't been paying much attention to that last bit. The lurking insight had finally struck him with surprise, and he was busy readjusting his image of the scar-faced woman across the table from him.

He realised that he had gone a little too far with his comparisons of Samina to Caska. Maybe it was because she was older, or maybe just her personality being different, but the fact was that Samina wasn't at all ashamed or afraid of her femininity. Judeau felt almost guilty for simply having assumed that the two women had to be made from the same stuff, just because they were both able fighters. Whereas a warm, tender moment like this would have been the _last_ thing Caska would ever have shared with anyone, to Samina it was just a slightly deeper insight into the person she was behind her weapons. She wasn't vulnerable now, as Caska would have been, because she wasn't worried about being disrespected or losing face due to her soft spot for underprivileged children.

_She has a personality even without Griffith,_ he thought, and immediately felt ashamed of dismissing Caska like that. It was, after all, Caska's personality that he had fallen in love with in the first place.

Well, all right, maybe not in the first place, but it was definitely what had kept him so captured for all those years.

But Samina was different. That he had to admit. Stronger. More self-sufficient. For some reason the thought struck him that maybe she had been more alone in her life than Caska, thereby having had to rely on herself in a very different way from the very beginning. His eyes narrowed very slightly. Her face looked a bit different now, he thought. That surprisingly brilliant and whole-hearted smile of hers wouldn't be so surprising anymore - it lay there in wait inside that calm confidence that he could now see, in the fine wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, and the calculated little movements that she made.

At first, he was surprised that he hadn't noticed that contented self-confidence before, and then he realised that he had - he just hadn't really understood it then.

And still, there was a sadness and a fear in there, somewhere far deeper down, that he knew he wasn't permitted to perceive but perceived nonetheless. Like that time in the Great City when she had completely freaked out, presumably at the stench of alcohol on the brute's breath: She might be one of the strongest women he had ever known, but she had her demons as well. Her sacred chamber was just a bit further in than Caska's, her weaknesses just a bit less obvious.

"Okay, what? What is it?"

"Hm?" Judeau snapped out of his daze to find Samina frowning with some amusement at him from across the candles.

"Do I have something on my face, or was the story just that captivating?"

"Oh! Er... I'm sorry, I just got a little... caught up in my thoughts..."

"So I see," she chuckled. "I take it you didn't hate my storytelling, then."

"Oh no, that was quite... you have a knack for that, I think. Ever thought about changing profession?"

"Nah, I won't be happy unless I get to kill off the occasional bad guy."

"Heh, I see."

"And you, then? What made you decide to be a mercenary?" Samina put her hands behind her head, leaned back and winked at him. "Your turn to share."

"Me?" He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Well... I suppose it is. Hmmm..."

Judeau thought back, even though he could remember the moment quite well. He was ashamed to admit it, but that was the first and only real decision he had ever made about his own life. Until today. How many years ago...?

"It must have been when I met Griffith."

"Oh?" Samina gave him a look of honest interest. "How old were you?"

Judeau couldn't help but smile. "Oh... maybe thirteen? We didn't pay much attention to birthdays in the troupe. But Papa Alphonse was calling me a 'man' and that made me feel so grown up. I thought I was more than ready to be a soldier..." He cut himself off with a wry shake of his head. "I've learned a lot since then."

"Papa Alfons? Your father?"

"Oh... no. And yes. My parents died of some disease when I was very young, I don't even remember them, and the rest of the troupe raised me together. You could say that I had about three different mothers and five fathers - so if I ever seem spoiled..." He ended that sentence with a mischievous wink that lured a laugh out of Samina. "But Papa Alphonse was our leader. Everybody respected him. He was the one who decided who got to perform and when, when a trick was good enough to be performed and when it wasn't, and most importantly for me, when I would get to join in the act. He was the one who taught me to use throwing knives, and I practised like a demon. When I finally got his approval, I felt like I had truly become a man among men. Imagine my disappointment when I was announced as 'the child prodigy'."

Samina laughed again and he joined her, hearing Papa Alphonse's booming laughter in the back of his mind.

That's_ what you've been sulking about all evening?"_

_"I have not been sulking!"_

_"Of course you have, Judeau. A grown man would not have let a cheap little publicity trick like that get him down."_

_"...Publicity trick? You mean..."_

_"That's just something I said to make them 'Ooh' and 'Aah' a bit more. Judeau, my boy..."_

_"Man."_

_"Hah, alright. Judeau, my short man. If you want to be respected as a man, you need to stop worrying so much about what other people think about you. Who cares about the audience? All they have to think is that you are a good performer, because when the evening is over they'll go home and we'll move on. What matters is what _we_ think about you. And we all know you're a grown man now."_

_"...Okay. I guess you're right."_

_"Of course I am. I'm the director."_

_"...Papa Alphonse?"_

_"Yes, Judeau?"_

_"You can still call me 'my boy' if you want to. I mean, when it's just us."_

_"Heh. Alright then."_

_"Because 'my short man' just sounds silly."_

_"Yes, doesn't it?"_

Judeau could still see the stately man before his mind's eye, preserved perfectly just like he had been that night, with his huge, generous smile, his kind but so perceptive ice blue eyes, his wide gestures and his healthy girth. That was the real Papa Alphonse, not the other, weakened, hollow-eyed, shrivelled old man that had said goodbye with a wheezing whisper...

"He taught me everything," he said, half to himself.

Maybe it was the tone of his voice or something in the way he smiled, but Samina caught on to the discord and asked quietly:

"What happened?"

Judeau shrugged, even though the memory still stung a little. "He was old. He got sick a few years after I had got to join his act, and died. An infection. It went quite quickly."

"And that's when you decided to leave?"

"Um... a few months later, actually. But it was more because of Griffith, and myself, than that I missed Papa Alphonse or anything. I could gladly have kept performing with the others, if it hadn't been for Griffith."

"Really? What did he do that was so great, then?"

The question caused Judeau a moment's pause, and he gave Samina a lopsided smile. "Well... it was the way he talked, I guess. And the things he said. I was also impressed that such a young boy - he was about my age, you know - had such a big gang, with boys who were a lot older than him but still allowed him to lead them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. They sat in the back at one of our public performances and howled and cheered like boys of that age usually do. We were all a little surprised that they didn't try to stir up any kind of trouble, but afterwards, when I met Griffith, I understood that he must have told them not to. There was this... presence about him... I can't really explain it better than that, but it left no one unaffected. Add to that his remarkable white hair and almost unreal blue eyes, and you sort of couldn't really help but stop and listen to him. If for no other reason, then just out of pure, simple fascination."

"White hair?" Samina's odd-coloured eyes widened in disbelief. "He was about thirteen years old and he had white hair?"

Judeau grinned and nodded. "Yeah. And it wasn't even old-people white, you know, all brittle and greyish. It was... like Thirgynn's. Chalk white, like he'd been born with it."

"No way. I've never seen that on a proper human before. Maybe he was a half-elf or something?"

"I don't think so, since there were no elves there. But... I have to admit... after having met Steelwing, I've had my doubts. They do look a lot alike. The dark elf kind of resembled him too, what little I saw of it."

Samina merely hummed noncommittally and shrugged, and changed the subject back onto its original course with a smile:

"So, what did he say? What was it that really made you choose the path of the warrior?"

Judeau thought back and couldn't help but laugh quietly.

_"Who are you people?"_

_"We're the Band of the Hawk."_

_"Are you the leader?"_

_"Yes. I'm Griffith."_

_"Wow... You mean you decide over all those guys? They listen to you?"_

_"Yes. And this is just the beginning. I'm building an army."_

_"Really? A whole army? What for?"_

"He said he was going to have his own kingdom, one day."

"He did? And _that's_ what turned you around?"

He nodded, chuckling. "I knew you were going to react like that. And it does sound kind of strange if you just think about it for a while, but... the way he said it... You just knew. He was going to get his own kingdom some day. It didn't just seem possible, but inevitable. We talked for quite a while longer, but from that moment, I knew I had to be a part of his gang. His awesome dream."

_"Can I... come with you? I know how to fight."_

_"If you wish."_

He felt his smile fade and didn't even try to keep it in place. "The beginning of the end," He sighed under his breath. Suddenly he felt so much older. Sure, he had matured a lot during his years with Griffith and had always been able to pride himself in his ability to keep both feet on the ground, anchored in reality. But still, up to the point of Griffith's betrayal (and, to his own slight surprise, he found himself thinking of that moment as the one when his commander had decided to sneak into Princess Charlotte's bedchamber, rather than the much more traumatic incidents of the eclipse) he had in fact been living his childhood dream - and that dream was over now, and he felt as though the last remnants of innocent, idealistic youth had left him along with it.

_It's long past time to stop dreaming, isn't it._

"Whoa..." Samina's subdued voice called his attention back to her, and the expression on her face was very serious. "What dark and scary place did you disappear off to now?"

"Oh, sorry. I just... these things are still a little bit difficult to talk about, I guess."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to force you to remember painful things..."

"No, no, it's all right." He smiled and found that he actually meant it. "It's all right. Maybe it's time I talk about it."

She gave him a thoughtful squint and leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. The pensive pause in their conversation was very carefully breached by her straightforward question:

"Would you like to talk about it?" She bestowed him with one of her small, twinkly smiles. "I might not be the best at sharing myself, but I am a good listener."

Her smile made his widen and relax, and he let another little pensive pause unfold as he considered her offer. "Maybe. But isn't this 'Candlenight'-thing supposed to be about the future? Dwelling on the past was for yesterday, wasn't it?"

She shrugged. "The future won't happen unless you deal with the past. One way or the other."

He gave her a slight nod and looked down at his own hands on the table, trying to organize his thoughts. He had to fight against an inner resistance, and wasn't entirely sure that he should - or really wanted to - be fighting it, so the silence dragged out. After a while Samina spoke up again:

"You know one of my favourite parts of Candlenight? When everyone gathers to see the sunrise and sing songs together to greet the light." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "It always makes me feel like something new is truly beginning. Too bad the Hold doesn't have any windows."

Grateful for the change in conversation, Judeau looked up again. "Well... aren't there lookouts or foxholes or something?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, yes. Of course. But I'm afraid that they would bring us a bit too close to the edge of the Protection Spell, and I just don't want to risk it, what with the presence of demons and... that." She pointed at his branded hand, and Judeau instinctively clenched it into a fist.

"Ah. Yeah." He frowned. "Right."

"Doesn't matter. The candles'll do fine. Feel like some food yet?"

"Not... really..." He spoke slowly because an idea had suddenly popped into his head. "But... I think I know of a good place to eat it."

Samina looked surprised. "Oh?"

Judeau smiled at her, got to his feet and hauled out the food basket - which was a bit heavier than he had anticipated. "Yeah. This is a festival of light, right? So a bright place would do instead of the sunrise, I hope?"

"Um, sure... what are you...?"

"It's a surprise. Though you probably already know of it. But still, just humour me, okay?"

The bounty hunter smiled, clearly as amused and intrigued as she was surprised. He held out his hand to her and after a very short hesitation she took it.

"Okay..."

o

Samina's reaction was just what Judeau had hoped for: The moment the luminous fungi garden came into view she gasped and smiled brilliantly.

"Oh! I had no idea... Wow, it's so beautiful!"

"You didn't know about this place? I thought you'd been here before."

"I have, but... I didn't always have time to explore, and... the last few times I've stayed in the Deep City with Taskkarr and Thirgynn. Oh, this is incredible. I can't believe that they're hiding it like this!"

Judeau chuckled happily at Samina's delight and took her gently by the arm, pulling her further in between the glowing mushrooms. "Come on, I know just the place."

He guided her to the clearing with the pond and finally put the heavy basket down on the smooth stone floor. With a flourish he offered Samina a seat on the bench and was rewarded with a surprised snort of amusement and a very slight blush from the bounty hunter. As he sat down beside her, she shook her head and gave him a reprimanding glance.

"Hopping twerp."

He laughed out loud. "What did you just call me?"

"I just called you for what you are. You got a problem?"

Not dignifying that with a reply, Judeau just leaned back and gave Samina a thoughtful and slightly mischievous smile. "You don't get treated like a lady very often, do you?" He asked quietly. Just as he thought, a small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows.

"Of course not. Since I'm not a lady, you know."

He feigned shock. "You're actually a man?"

She sent him a murderous glare, but her embarrassed smile rather took the edge off of it. "No! Stop being annoying!"

Judeau just laughed again, and waved his hands disarmingly at her. "All right, all right. If you tell me one thing: Why does it bother you so when I treat you with a bit of chivalry?"

He could tell by the look on her face that she had every intention of blowing that question off, so he quickly added: "Remember that it's your turn to share."

She visibly bit down on her snappy comeback and punched the air in frustration.

"Damn!"

With a frown, the scar-faced woman then retreated into a thoughtful silence. Judeau waited patiently, still amused by how she could be so open about her own tender kindness, like towards her foster-children, yet so reserved when it came to anyone else showing any sort of kindness towards her. It was more than just some sort of coquettish modesty, that much was certain, and to be honest he couldn't help but find it kind of cute, in some strange way.

"Well," she muttered after a while, still frowning down at her own feet, "It's not like you really mean it..."

Judeau's eyebrows rose in honest surprise. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

She gave him a look that was half annoyance, half embarrassed shock. "Come on! It's just a joke to you! The way you always overdo it... you know." She made a half-hearted impression of one of his extravagant bows, without getting up from her seat. Judeau frowned thoughtfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I do tend to do that, don't I? Act like I'm not serious, I mean." He heaved a small, noisy sigh and spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Force of habit, I'm afraid. From trying to keep up the morale of a bunch of rather young mercenaries. I'll try to show more seriousness in the future, then."

As he had expected, Samina made a small grunt of frustration and looked away, but not before he saw her colour rise just a slight bit. "No need, damn it. That'll just make it even worse."

"So you still haven't answered my question."

Her reply this time was a quiet growl. Judeau waited patiently again.

"I don't know, okay? It makes me embarrassed, that's all I know. I guess it feels like you're mocking me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, come on!" She turned fully back towards him and her blush was gone, replaced by indignation and maybe a hint of bitterness. "Like you said, not many people treat me 'like a lady!' In fact, nobody does that but you and the occasional idiot who's trying to be funny, so you'll have to pardon me if I'm being a bit suspicious-minded."

"Ohh." Judeau nodded. "I see. Okay. Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure you get used to it, then."

The look on her face was pretty priceless, and he couldn't help but smile at it.

"...What?"

"What what? You can't possibly expect me to just back off after hearing something like that! You-" He leaned forward and pointed a reprimanding finger at her. "-Have been deprived of chivalry, and that is a real shame. I see no other option than to take it upon myself to accustom you to the feeling of being a little spoiled every now and then. It's something every woman should have, in my opinion."

She bestowed him with a speechless silence and an even more priceless look, before bowing her head in defeat and exasperatedly rubbing her brow.

"Oh, heavens on a stick..." she half-groaned, half sighed. "Fine, whatever."

In order to keep himself from chuckling out loud, Judeau opened the picnic basket and inspected its contents, happy to find a bottle of decent wine and two cups on top of a couple of simple napkins. When Samina looked up again, he offered her a drink and she accepted with a weary laugh.

"To chivalry!"

"Hell no. But I could be persuaded to drink to friendship, I suppose."

After drinking they both leaned back, and Judeau absent-mindedly began following the path of the falling water with his eyes, just like he had done the other day. Samina's silence beside him was companionable, but it didn't drag out for very long.

"Okay," she said, "Your turn to share. Tell me something about your world - geography, politics, religion, I don't care. Just tell me something I haven't heard before, please."

"Right... Something you haven't heard before..."

There were actually a lot of things that he hadn't told Samina about his world, and as the wine dwindled in the bottle they went from talking about the geography of Midland and its closest neighbours to comparing political systems and cultures from both worlds, to finally somehow end up talking about Judeau's past again. And before he knew it, he had told her everything - about his early life as a young, travelling performer, about Griffith and the Hawks and his time with them, about his unlikely comrades, their great battles and fun times, and, in the end, when the wine was long gone and the food in the basket had been reduced to about a fifth of what it had once been, about everything that had led up to the final tragedy.

When he had finished his account of that last, surreal battle – telling it with more detail than he had intended to, but unable to stop the words from flowing out of him – he felt drained. Too emptied to even react to the renewed emotional trauma he knew he should be experiencing, and just leaned his head in his un-branded hand with a weary sigh. It wasn't that he felt hollow or achingly empty in any way, he just felt tired and numb – as if telling the story had finally made the whole thing truly real, and thereby something he could do absolutely nothing about. Crying or screaming or breaking something wouldn't change a thing, and Samina would no doubt remind him of that if he were to actually try any such thing.

No, he wasn't completely numb after all. There was a soft, unobtrusive ache in his chest that whispered of a gentle sadness much preferable to the violent grief and guilt that had tainted his nightmares. He rested in it, wondering how long it would remain this way.

"I'm not even sure what's worse," he mumbled half into his hand, "That Griffith betrayed us or that I may be the only survivor."

He had spoken without thinking, but the moment that the words left his lips he realised just how much that had bothered him, all this time. The thought that he, alone, of all the strong, talented, loyal Hawks had escaped the gruesome death scene was unacceptable to his mind. He was good, better than average even among the foremost of the Hawks, but he was simply not that good, not that special.

"Do you feel that you don't deserve to live?" The bounty hunter's quiet question echoed the one in his head, and Judeau frowned at the dark cave pool before him. His answer was slow.

"No… I… don't regret being alive. I think."

"You think?"

"I don't know, it's… complicated. There's so much…" He sighed again and closed his eyes. "I don't want to die. I didn't want it then and I sure as hell don't want to now. I'm certain of that much."

"Okay." A softness that he hadn't noticed were missing earlier had coloured Samina's voice. "So you just simply miss them."

He finally looked up at her, and her gently smiling eyes somehow made him feel just a little better. "What do you mean?"

"It's not so hard to understand," she said. "Just think about it. You've basically lost everything: friends, social structure, physical possessions, any aspirations you may have had… all the things that together constitute a worthy life. In a way, you kind of died out there. And yet, you didn't. You're still here, forced to cope with losing an entire life. Your friends aren't – at least as far as you know: Even if they survived, they still have the advantage of being in a familiar place. They would know the politics, the geography and the cultures that surrounded them, so they would not have nearly such a blank slate as you to try to build their new lives on. And if they died… well… As harsh as it may seem, at least they won't have to cope with their losses the way you do. Who would blame you for envying them?"

Judeau found to his surprise that he was smiling again. Her words provided a comfort to him that he found he needed more than he could have guessed, and the profound feeling of gratitude that came welling up in the wake of her words was also unexpectedly intense.

"How do you do that?" he mumbled, taking in every aspect of her interesting face as if searching it for an answer. "How can you know just the right words, like that?"

For some reason she frowned slightly and looked away. "Because I'm outside, Judeau. If our roles had been reversed, I'm sure you would have seen it, too: It doesn't matter how smart you are, or how clever - If you keep everything bottled up inside, you can keep thinking about it forever and ever, and you still won't get anywhere with it. Like my mentor used to say: 'from inside there's only one perspective – too close.' Sometimes, you've just got to share to understand."

Judeau's smile never wavered. "Sounds like a very wise man."

"He was."

Though the bounty hunter didn't seem inclined to elaborate, Judeau had heard her mention this 'mentor' a few times before, but only in an offhanded way – like now – and he was getting pretty curious. Also, he felt like distracting himself from the story he had just told, even if it had been a lot easier to tell than he had feared at first, so he was just about to ask her about the mystery man who had affected her life to the degree that she called him her 'mentor', when they were suddenly interrupted.

"There you are!" Thirgynn's melodious baritone sounded slightly strained, but as penetratingly sonorous as ever. The miracle-worker quickly rounded the large mushroom that was in his way and halted in front of the two humans, who were giving him twin looks of surprise and confusion. The chalk-haired dwarf's chest was heaving slightly, as if he had been running, and there was a strange, stern look on his face that could not be interpreted.

"You must come with me. The _Khazuvon_ wants to see you."

* * *

**Reviewer Responses!**

**RisuMusume:** Don't worry, I know everything there is to know about procrastinating AND being just too darn busy to write, even though you want to...  
**Merina:** I'm really sorry about Hearts Eclipsed, it is underway, just a bit slower than HaP (I know, I know...) But hey! You were kind of right about the "bad trip" thing! Isn't that neat?  
**Pissy Abyssinian:** Thank you very much for those kind words. I do hope to one day go back and just redo all the older chapters completely, but until then it is good to know that my efforts are paying off and that I'm still improving. I hope all is well with you and yours, and that you still have the time to read some crappy internet fanfiction every now and then.  
**Azrael:** Not a problem, I assure you! Just as long as you show up at all, I'm happy. As usual, thank you a lot for the encouragements and kind words, and I'm very glad you liked the dark elves!  
**Kyree:** I sure do hope that I haven't given anyone the impression that I would get upset over a bit of constructive critiscism, because that would really make things difficult for me. I can't even tell you how happy I am for a bit of honest concrit, but I'd have liked it even more if you could possibly have pointed out the slow places for me, or maybe just given me an example. Sometimes an author can't see these things on their own, I'm afraid. But thanks a bundle!  
**Jula:** I would have to say that I do think I'm both. Both crazy and a little bit proud of myself. Thank you for the encouragement, and of course for your wonderful patience!


	21. Desperate Times

So... it's been almost a year... I'm... really... really... slow. (hangs head in shame) Oh well... at least I still haven't given up. How's that for perseverence?

I HATE writer's block.

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Desperate Situations Call for Desperate Measures

Judeau yelped and instinctively grabbed a hold of Samina's arm as the floor beneath him suddenly shook and began falling away under his feet with a loud clank. The bounty hunter, however, merely gave him an amused look and held his elbow to steady him.

"Is this the first time you've ridden in an elevator?"

Noticing that their descent remained slow and controlled - if still quite noisy - Judeau sheepishly cleared his throat and pulled away. "Elevator? So that's what it's called?" He tried a quick laugh to disguise the faint tremble in his voice, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. "As far as I can tell, we're going down."

Being a good sport, Samina pretended not to have noticed his nervousness and played along with his unsuccessful attempt at being funny.

"True. 'Elevator' is what it's called in the Academy, but then again, over there it's a matter of magical 'lifting pads' meant to get important people quickly up the towers from ground level. The dwarves call these mechanical constructions _zuk'vaz_ - which, I believe, means something like 'up-down'. How's that for logic?"

"Very roughly translated, yes," Thirgynn mumbled, frowning sternly at the closed doors in front of them. The miracle-worker had worn the same expression ever since he had met the two humans in the fungi garden, and Judeau was nurturing a growing suspicion that the dwarf was, in fact, quite acutely worried about something. What was worse, this something seemed to have everything to do with why he had come to collect the two of them, but the chalk-haired dwarf offered no explanations and persistently refused to answer any direct questions.

"Say, Thirgynn..." Judeau hesitantly tried after a short moment of nothing but mechanical rattling all around. "Are we in some kind of trouble?"

The miracle-worker seemed to hesitate for an instant, but then he grunted and gave a vague shake of his head. It really did nothing to ease Judeau's worries, but the dwarf's tight-lipped silence infected him and he said no more.

As the elevator, up-down, or whatever the moving room was called, finally stopped they found Steelwing waiting for them on the other side of the door. The tall elf immediately fell into step next to the miracle-worker, who gave him a brief glance.

"Thank you for waiting."

Steelwing gave a curt nod in reply, unsurprisingly undisturbed by the situation. Judeau envied the silver-haired Crusader a little bit more than usual: He could feel his own mouth starting to go dry with nervousness.

The moving room had brought them down to the Deep City, home to almost all of the dwarves in the hold, and compared to the twilighted Inner City that they had just left, this one was a world of ink-black midnight. The only lights came from open doors in the blocky, windowless buildings to either side, a few decorative, glowing fungi, and the occasional lantern or glowball that some passing dwarf might carry. As they ran through the dark city, Judeau caught a glimpse of faintly shimmering water every now and then, as if luminous fungi grew just beneath its surface, and occasionally, a towering building would stand out among all the others, decorated with glowballs and crystals in such a manner that the light itself became a subtle work of art, scattering little rainbows through the blackness.

Actually, in spite of the stressful situation, Judeau felt that he would have wanted to stop and have a better look at all these hidden wonders - There were even more shapes and hints in the deep darkness around him that indicated statues, bridges, pillars and fountains, as well as lavishly decorated buildings - but the miracle-worker hurried on without pause and Judeau had to make do with brief glimpses and curious guesses as he followed the dwarf. If he were to stop to investigate anything he would most certainly be lost in a matter of seconds, and that was a very intimidating thought.

The few dwarves that they encountered reacted rather strangely to seeing them: Everyone, as far as he could tell in the darkness, stopped whatever they were doing to stare at them as they rushed by. Though most of them simply seemed to be bewildered, Judeau could practically_ sense_ the indignation radiating off of some others. The feeling of being on his way to something really unpleasant grew inside Judeau, and he couldn't help but heave a small sigh of discomfort. He almost jumped when he suddenly felt Samina's hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," she murmured quietly. "If they were going to punish us for anything they wouldn't go through all this trouble, and they definitely wouldn't bring us down here. 'Sides, trust me: we would _know_ if we had done something wrong."

He smiled instinctively and nodded, then realized that she couldn't see him in the dark and placed his hand over hers, instead.

"Thanks."

She pulled her hand away with an affirmative grunt, hurrying on behind Thirgynn. Judeau fell into step beside her, actually feeling a little bit better.

* * *

Khurakk clan Zoroin, High King of the dwarves, stood calm and collected with both palms firmly planted on the stone table, as he faced down the shocked uproar that his decision had caused within the war council. 

He had been prepared for this from the moment that the idea had at first entered his mind, and he understood them, but he would not even have made the suggestion if he hadn't been convinced and he knew that this radiated off of him through his posture and determined, stoic silence. The council was indeed beginning to take notice now, and the loudest protests were finally quietening down. For the most part.

"Unacceptable!" High General Zurgin bellowed from his position further down the table. "I will not see this happen!"

Khurakk fixed the battle-scarred greybeard with a strong, unyielding glare. "Then you are free to leave, General. I stand by my decision."

Zurgin met his glare and matched it, his jaws working while he tried to put words to his indignation. Master Miracle-worker Gurnis, true to his habit, intercepted the conversation before the General managed to say something shameful in the heat of the moment.

"High King, just to bring surface-dwellers into the Deep City in a time of war is unprecedented, but what you are suggesting goes against every tradition there ever..."

"We don't need any longlings!" General Zurgin roared, rudely interrupting by banging his fist against the massive stone table with enough force to make it tremble slightly under the High King's hands. "We can handle this ourselves, just like we always have before!"

"No, we can't!" The High King's mighty bellow cut through the din and sent all the assembled into an attentive silence. Knowing that he would not be interrupted again, Khurakk lowered his voice to a more appropriate level and continued gravely: "That much is absolutely clear now. This enemy is not following any traditions, and if we hold to ours, we will lose. That is what you have all been telling me here today." To silence the irate protests he saw in Zurgin and some others before they could find enough space to voice them, he raised his voice again. "And do not try to tell me that you can not see it as well! This is not an enemy we can handle! Not on our own. To win this battle, we must do as the enemy and surprise them with something they did not expect, nor had a chance to plan for."

He straightened up and stared them all down, conveying his absolute confidence in the unorthodox, even scandalous idea, and spoke with collected forcefulness:

"But if you all believe me to have lost my mind, that I am hearing echoes in the dark, and I no longer have your confidence, then it is fully within your rights to dethrone me and choose a new King. Until you do that, I am still the one you have entrusted with protecting and taking care of our people, and as long as I am High King I will do whatever must be done to accomplish just that. I will not and can not let our _pride_ be the end of _Yhakk'Zaran'Kil!_"

He let his gaze sweep over the gathered dwarves, meeting their eyes. He lowered his voice again and spoke with earnest calm:

"Anything less would be far more shameful for me. For all of us."

The gathered greybeards looked back at him. Some resigned, some understanding, and some with varying degrees of anger, but not even General Zurgin - although seething with barely controlled rage - spoke up against him this time.

Khurakk let out a long breath through his nose and settled to wait. He knew that he still had the confidence of the war council, but allowed himself a moment to recognize that he may yet come to regret this action. He hoped not, but from this point on it was all up to those surface-dwellers - And regardless of what he knew and hoped about them, that thought was quite uncomfortable.

* * *

Judeau had no idea for how long they had been hurrying through the dark city, but his lungs and legs had started to ache from the forced pace. 

He had kind of sensed it coming for a while, but the moment that the buildings around them suddenly gave way to the huge, open space still struck Judeau with surprise. He actually faltered for an instant as his senses automatically tried to ascertain the size of the open space around him. They failed.

A little ways ahead, he could see the gentle light of a glowball punctuate the deep darkness like a very tiny moon. At first, it seemed to be resting on top of a pillar, but as the group approached it Judeau realized that it was actually hovering in the air, poised just above the strong stone hand of the statue of a magnificent dwarf.

With a regal bearing that rivaled Steelwing's and an impressively thick and flowing mass of beard even by dwarven standards, the dwarf stood broad-legged on the chiseled top of a mountain that appeared to be in miniature - or perhaps it was the dwarf who was meant to be depicted as larger than life. The statue was in itself at least five times the size of a normal dwarf.

He was wearing nothing but his beard and a blacksmith's large leather apron, but still the statue managed to communicate more nobility and pride than any King Judeau had ever seen. However, what captured Judeau's attention the most was the expressiveness of the stern yet gentle stone face - the very image of an artist concentrating very hard on putting the final touch to a beloved masterpiece.

Judeau couldn't help but give a low whistle of quiet admiration as they hurried by the monument. The lines were so exquisite and yet powerfully drawn, and the large statue gave such an impression of strength and stability - and somehow a lingering sense of warm, paternal affection - that for a moment it managed to distract Judeau from his nervousness altogether.

The scout kept glancing back at the monument as he ran on, and he would have run right into the huge stone steps that suddenly rose out of the darkness before him, if it hadn't been for the firm grip of Steelwing's hand around his arm, bringing him to an abrupt halt alongside the others.

It seemed as though their forced march through the dwarf Hold had finally come to a pause. With a faint blush of embarrassment that he hoped went undetected in the dark, Judeau sent a nod of gratitude that he knew the Crusader's dimly glowing eyes could perceive. He drew in a quick breath to try to fight the uneasiness that immediately came creeping back, focused his attention and tried to orient himself once more.

The faint light behind him only served as a distraction, as his eyes were trying to trick him into believing that they had a chance to see more than they really could, so he closed them and funneled his concentration into his ears instead. In the absolute darkness, his senses felt like they stretched out beyond his body: It wasn't so much the echo of anything, but more of a numbness in the space ahead that told him of the stone wall rising up before him, and it wasn't so much the sound of his teammates' breathing or the rustle of their clothes, as a strange but unmistakable sense of compact warmth that told him of their positions around him. They were apparently not going anywhere at the moment, so Judeau calmly let his senses stretch further out into the open space around him. It was just like scouting terrain on a cloudy late-autumn night.

Judeau wrapped his hearing around himself like a second skin, until he felt like he could count every step of the stairway before them. Every little subtlety of the air told him something about the room: The rock wall ahead of them was mostly flat and smooth, the space behind them still too huge to get any real perception of it, and the more he listened, the more Judeau became certain that they were not alone in the darkness. The dwarven sentries were very good at their job, though - Judeau wasn't even certain of what little irregularity in the air that told him of their presence, because they made no perceptible sound or movement. Nonetheless, he was absolutely certain that they were being intently watched from several directions.

A gentle hand on his shoulder and a concerned murmur in his ear made his focus snap back with a start:

"Judeau? You okay there?"

Taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, he nodded and whispered back to the bounty hunter: "Yeah. Fine. Why?"

"You weren't breathing. Are you still nervous?"

"Oh. No, I was just... listening. But thanks for the concern."

"Oh, okay. Sorry I startled you."

He smiled through the darkness, just barely able to discern the pale oval of her face in the faint light from the distant glowball.

"Don't worry about it." His smile widened self-consciously. "I guess that I'm still feeling a little bit skittish, after all."

Her hand returned to his shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat, and he could hear on her breath that she smiled back at him. Before she could say anything more, though, the silent air was interrupted by a deep, ominous rumble, and the darkness at the top of the stairs was sliced apart by a blade of clear, white light. As the group watched, the crack of brightness widened until it revealed itself to be a fairly small set of double doors, slowly opening outwards to admit a very stern-faced dwarf in elaborate armor who was holding a glowball in his gauntled hand.

Something about him said "Royal Guard" to Judeau. It could well be the air of authority and definite lethality about him, or just the mark of the axe and hammer crossed over an anvil, which was emblazoned every here and there on his impressive armor. The scout had seen that crest often enough during his stay in the Hold to feel reasonable certain of its association with the royal family.

The guardsman took one long look at the motley team, gave Thirgynn an almost imperceptible nod and then signaled them all to follow him with an economic, easy-to-interpret wave of his free hand.

Walking through a few seemingly deserted hallways meticulously decorated with paintings, carvings and tapestries full of gilded, silvered, bronzed and jeweled details (at least as far as Judeau could determine as the exquisite art glinted by in the light from the glowball) the small team finally arrived at a pair of ornate steel double doors. Here the dwarven guardsman handed the glowball over to Thirgynn with a salute and went over to stand with his back against the wall, facing the doors from the other side of the small anteroom.

Thirgynn just stood there for a moment, looking down at the glowball in his hand. Then he muttered a few words in dwarfish and the bright sphere rose up into the air to hover steadily above his head.

"_Vontar hazt,_" the miracle-worker sighed with a stoic resignation that did absolutely nothing to calm Judeau's nerves. The chalk-haired dwarf then put his strong, stubby hands on the polished steel handles and pulled the heavy doors open, before anyone had had a chance to think too much about worrying.

But what waited for them in the huge, dimly lit chamber beyond made Judeau's stomach tighten painfully and relocate itself to somewhere in the vicinity of his larynx. Futilely trying to force it back down to its proper position by swallowing repeatedly, the scout followed his comrades into the crowded room.

It was occupied by a huge, octagonal table by which - seated four by each side - intimidatingly stern-faced dwarves sat in grim silence. He could only barely see them in the light from the glowball, but the unmistakable yellow glow of thirty-two pairs of dwarven eyes gleamed intently at him, robbing him of even the hopeful illusion that he wasn't at the very centre of their grim attention.

Thirgynn halted before the big table and saluted, then sent the hovering glowball over to hang above Samina with a small gesture, and hurried off to stand behind one of the seated dwarves. It took Judeau another two seconds to recognize that it was Taskkarr – and that he wasn't, in fact, sitting down. Every one of the dwarves around the table was standing up, and every one of them had another dwarf standing just behind them. A quick survey of the otherwise rather bare room suggested a complete lack of chairs of every kind.

The dwarf standing directly across the table from them, cleared his throat, and Judeau immediately recognized the _Khazuvon_. His voice was level but somehow sounded deeper and more potent than earlier - It could just be the acoustics of the room, or it could be Judeau's own hopped-up imagination – when he addressed them all in turn:

"Samina, Dwarf Friend. Honored Steelwing. Mister Judeau. I am sure you are wondering why you have been brought here."

"We do," Samina answered, and Judeau couldn't help but admire how cool and collected she sounded. He decided to imitate the Crusader for now, and stand perfectly still and silent until spoken to - Partly because he certainly didn't trust his voice right now, but mostly because the order in which the _Khazuvon_ had addressed them had made it quite clear just how the three of them ranked in this room.

Samina could have the floor, he didn't mind at all.

The High King nodded curtly and carried on:

"You understand that this is against procedure, but you do not yet know just how much. You will, but we must begin from the start. Bear with our explanation before you ask any questions."

Samina nodded. The High King gestured at a white-bearded dwarf standing directly to his right. "Explain the situation, Master Miracle-worker Gurnis."

"Yes, _Khazuvon_." The elderly dwarf paused for a moment and then looked up at the three non-dwarves. "This Hold stands before an unprecedented crisis. Last night, on the moment when magical instability was at its greatest, we suffered a strategic and immensely powerful magical attack. Our Great Runes would have protected us, and to some extent they did – however, the attack was not aimed at the Hold itself, but directly at one of the Great Runes which suffered such heavy damage that it has been significantly weakened, to the point of failure."

The white-bearded dwarf paused for a moment again, and made a small gesture in Judeau's direction. The scout suppressed a small twitch.

"We believe that Mr. Judeau, with his active demonical curse-rune, got caught up in the resulting surge of chaotic magical energies. It is of some interest to us, actually, as this backs up our theory that the forces used in the attack were also of demonic origin."

_Everyone knows about that?_ Judeau watched the dwarves mutter and exchange glances across the table. Apparently there was no such thing as privacy when it came to demonic curse-runes freaking out on you around here. Well... all things considered, that did make sense.

"Thank you, Master Miracle-worker Gurnis," the High King said, turning to another elderly dwarf with a steel-grey beard-braid beneath a face criss-crossed by scars. "High General Zurgin, explain our current tactical situation."

The scarred dwarf sent the three non-dwarves a glare that almost incinerated them where they stood, and this time Judeau couldn't help but twitch as if he had been poked with a small needle, but the grizzled dwarf nonetheless began speaking in a deep, clear growl:

"We can weather any siege for an infinite time, and anyone choosing to battle us inside the mountain must be either insane or insanely stupid, and can have no hope of winning in any case. But this is neither of those situations: With the attack on the Great Rune, we are now assuming that their plan is nothing less than to bring the whole mountain down on us. With one of the Great Runes gone they have only to mount another attack like the one yesterday to bypass the other Runes and bury us all in our homes, without losing a single soldier of their army. In other words, we have a year to defeat their army or they will get us on the next Night of Oaths when the unpredictable magic fluctuations make the Runes vulnerable."

The greybeard had turned back towards the table as he spoke, as if he was addressing his peers instead of the three non-dwarves, but his voice still carried a heavy tone of hostility and indignation. Even more so when he turned back towards the three of them and barked:

"A year is of course plenty of time to mount a counterattack and wipe them all out, and this is what we would normally have done - but as you have seen they have a very large number of troops, and they are supported by the most formidable magic force we have yet encountered. And… it is the opinion of the council that we do not have enough fighters in this Hold to win an all-out battle outside the mountain. Our reinforcements have been cut off, as have our communication with the other Holds. Even if they would know exactly what is going on here, which is unlikely, they will not be able to help us in time."

High General Zurgin took a deep swig from a bottle that somehow appeared in his hand and turned away again with a brusque finiteness that was hard to misinterpret. The High King nodded curtly at him.

"Very concisely put, High General. Thank you."

The general responded with a smoldering glare and barked a few words in Dwarfish, which made the High King's eyebrows furrow in disapproval.

"Yes, I know how you feel," he rumbled in return, "But you will speak the Common Trade Language while the surface-dwellers remain in this room." Berated, the scarred greybeard lowered his gaze with an angry snort and the High King turned to the non-dwarves again.

"So, as you can see, we are in a very difficult situation right now. In fact, we have been unable to come up with a solution, and that is why I have called you." He cleared his throat and tapped his fingers lightly against the table a few times. "We are aware of the differences between us and most surface-dwellers, and though we often think of these as advantages on our part, we understand that sometimes it makes communication and comprehension between our races somewhat difficult. It is our hope that by accepting this once-only invitation to our war council, you specially honored surface-dwellers can contribute with your different ways of thinking to help us solve this problem."

He paused again, and then gave them a very direct look, the steadiness of which was belied by the faint emotional tremble in his low voice:

"We are asking for your help."

Samina took half a step forward and gave the High King a respectful nod. The confident smile on her face had neither pity nor haughtiness, and she spoke with calm, earnest reverence. "We are honored. Of course we will help in any way we can. We thank you proudly for your confidence."

"Pah!" General Zurgin snapped. "You have yet to prove yourself, human!"

Samina turned her smile at him. "Well then, let's hope I do. Shall we get down to business?"

"Yes, let us." The High King seemed to relax a little, and he motioned them to come closer. "Step up to the table. Do you have any questions?"

"Hold, _Khazuvon_." The speaker this time was the dwarf standing on the left side of the High King. He had the longest beard of all those gathered, adorned by many small braids from which hung glinting objects, and his face was so wrinkled that the shadows caused by the faint light from the glowball made the deep grooves stand out like spider web tattoos against his skin. He pointed one stubby finger at Judeau as he continued speaking in a deep, gentle voice:

"We all know Dwarf Friend Samina and the Honored Crusader Steelwing, and what we owe them in gratitude, but this one has never even sat foot in a Hold before. Why is he here? How has he proven himself worthy of this trust?"

A quiet murmur of agreement followed the aged Dwarf's question, and Judeau froze mid-step. In the face of all these questioning, disapproving gazes, his stomach tied itself into a painful knot and he felt sweat break out on his forehead.

_I'm not even supposed to be here? But I didn't exactly get to choose! What's going to happen? Have I heard too much already? Are they going to punish me somehow?_

"The Dwarf Friend has vouched for him, High Priest Vonzarik," Taskkarr's familiar voice rumbled. "As do I. He is a part of my team. He's also a clever sort, for a human, so having him here will be a benefit to us."

The High Priest inclined his head towards Taskkarr and smiled amiably.

"If the _Zur'Vorh_ vouches, I will not question."

The High Priest's acceptance set off a murmur of vague consent through the assembled dwarves, but Judeau still sent a nervous glance over at Samina for some sort of confirmation. He found her looking back, and upon eye contact she gave him an encouraging smile and a get-over-here nod, and he gratefully walked up to stand next to her by the low, massive stone table.

Samina squatted down, putting her a bit lower than the average dwarf, and rested her elbows on the table for support. Judeau hesitantly followed her lead while she briskly addressed the assembly:

"Okay, a quick summary of the situation?"

The _Khazuvon_ turned to the side and spoke to one of the dwarves in the back. "Tactician Yrgnir."

A vaguely familiar-looking dwarf with vividly red beard saluted the King and stepped forward from the outer circle, the others moving aside to allow him in.

"Yes." He stood still for a moment, gathering his thoughts while stroking a braided moustache. "On one hand, we now know what the _tchun'ni_ are planning. The dilemma is that we don't know how to stop it. If we don't find a way to drive them off before the next Night of Oaths, the Hold will fall."

"Right. Now, what was that about no reinforcements?" Samina asked. The tactician grimly shook his head.

"The steam tunnels have been razed by demons, and reconstruction will take far too long. We also can't send magical communications outside the Hold due to a barrier spell."

"Hm," Samina said, a thoughtful frown on her face. "What about sneaking a portal mage out through the enemy lines to relay a message?"

"Even if we were to succeed in doing that, no Hold would be able to respond in time - not with a force large enough to handle this enemy, at least - as long as they are restricted to moving across the surface."

"But surely you have other allies to call on. Humans, for example."

"No." the reply was quick and definite, and accompanied by a bitter murmur from the crowd. "We can not call on the humans this time. First of all because we want as few surface-dwellers as possible to know about our vulnerability, we can in no way risk that others might decide to exploit it - merely that we are entrusting _you_ with this knowledge is considered dangerously foolhardy by some. No offense intended, of course, it's just that... you are surface-dwellers. And secondly, because human allies would be just as useless against this foe as any dwarven reinforcements."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

The tactician paused for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows at Samina in confusion.

"Say what?"

"That they wouldn't be able to handle the enemy."

"Because of the overwhelming magic support, of course. It is far more powerful than we ever could have anticipated."

"Huh." Samina nodded and pinched the bridge of her scarred nose. "Of course. That goes without saying, I guess, after almost taking out one of the Runes... I wonder just how they can muster that ridiculous amount of power, anyway."

"Ah yes. That is the true crux of the matter. We don't know, and we're prevented from finding out. If we could just secure that information, we would be able to start thinking of ways to do something about it."

"Okay, so… you are prevented how?"

"Magically shielded. Any divination spell cast on this area-" The dwarven strategist pulled out a long stick from under the table and used it to circle a spot on the tabletop, almost next to Samina's elbow. "-fails."

Judeau looked closer and suddenly realized that there was a shallow relief carved into the smooth table: a perfectly detailed map of the Hold and its immediate surroundings above ground. He recognized the general shape of the Inner City, the absurdly huge gates that led to the outer Trade City, as well as the narrow mountain path he and the others had used when they arrived to the Hold. Here and there around the perimeter of the table, Judeau could see sprinklings of small, flat triangles, either blackened, silver or gold-colored, but they were heavily concentrated on the area closest to the three of them, where the map showed the layout of the main road and the Trade City. Judeau deduced that these triangles represented the enemy, whereas the copper triangles, placed on the outermost gate, the Trade City and all the various small offshoots from the Hold (Watch points, he assumed), represented structures lost or damaged.

The area indicated by the red-bearded tactician was behind the bulk of the army, on top of a cliff overlooking the battlefield and the Hold's main gate. It was a perfect place to keep officers, tacticians and ranged support (alright, it would have to have a pretty absurd range, but since Judeau knew next to nothing about how magic worked, he didn't dare to count the idea out), however... it did not seem entirely unapproachable. Assuming a small group of skilled scouts could make it past the sentries to the east, then use that crevice there to get deeper in behind the lines... dashing over that small area might be a problem, but once cleared the team would have complete cover by the cliffside itself all the way up to...

Judeau cleared his throat and asked, before the nervousness of interrupting the silence could steal into his voice:

"What about scouts? Are they also prevented by magic?"

The tactician (and pretty much everyone else in the room) looked up at him for a few agonizingly slow seconds, and then answered with a small frown on his face that was a bit hard to interpret.

"Technically, a scout with the right protection spells could probably slip unnoticed through any magical traps, shields and alarms, but only because there would most likely not be many such counter-espionage measures in place. They would know that we, while being the foremost experts on underground stealth and guerrilla warfare, have never been able to manage these tactics in surface-combat."

"More like never bothered to learn," Taskkarr's deep bass voice suddenly interrupted. The attention of the entire room shifted to the demon hunter, who seemed completely oblivious of it. Taskkarr was leaning forward on his knuckles, his eyes peeled on Judeau with an intensity that almost frightened the human. "They would never expect us to send out a skilled scout. They would never expect that. It would definitely work. Who knows what he could find out!"

A new sort of silence settled over the room at Taskkarr's words, and slowly, every head turned back towards Judeau again. The scout looked around in surprise and a rising sense of dread, only to find that even Samina and Steelwing were gazing at him with calculating eyes.

"What, _me?_!" He asked, and heard his voice involuntarily break into falsetto at the last syllable.

Samina's eyes grew large, as if she just woke up from a reverie of some sort. "Oh, that's right... you are probably the most skilled scout in the Hold, actually..." she said, as if the thought only now occurred to her.

Judeau realized his mistake as a breeze of surprised murmurs passed through the chamber, punctuated by the _Khazuvon _quietly asking Taskkarr if that was true.

"It is." Taskkarr nodded. "He used to hold command over the scout troops of a very notorious army once. Didn't you, Judeau?"

"Um..." Judeau could feel the first pinpricks of cold sweat break out on his back. "I... I... But that was months ago, and... I..."

Realizing how pathetic he sounded, he resolutely shut himself up at that point and took a deep, slow breath. Forcing himself to disregard the press of eyes and expectations on him, he created a small bubble of calm around his own thoughts and asked himself one simple question:

_Why wouldn't I be able to do it?_

Sure, it had been a while since he last went on a scouting mission, but he knew very well that his skills hadn't suffered for it. In fact, with Steelwing's training they might actually rather have improved.

He could visualize himself taking the path his eyes had followed on the map, scurrying over open ground, climbing through the narrow crevice, avoiding the guards... The more he thought about it, the more the idea excited him. The only problem he could see was that he didn't have much information on the enemy creatures that he would have to avoid somehow, but that could be... _Oh crap._

Judeau looked up, not bothering to try to hide his regret. "I can't do it. I would, but I can't."

Taskkarr frowned at him across the table. "Why not?"

Judeau blinked in surprise and held out his hand, showing the dwarves the rune burnt into his palm. "Because of this. I'm like a walking dinner bell to that army, aren't I?"

Caught up in the moment, Taskkarr had clearly forgotten about the curse. He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, somehow managing to look both annoyed and mildly sheepish as he merely grunted in reply. An unorganized general discussion erupted throughout the room, but silenced after only a few minutes by the sound of a gentle, clear jingle.

The ancient High Priest shook his sleeve once more and the soft sound drew everyone's attention to his wizened face, but the only one that he paid any attention to at all was Judeau. With a soft smile, he held out his hand towards the scout.

"Come here, young human," he said, his soothing voice calm and deep like an underground ocean. "Let me have a look at that curse."

* * *

Ya, it's been a long time, I know. I'll still do the reviewer responses, though - I don't know if those who wrote them are still around. Oh well. Eh-heh. 

**RR:**

**RisuMusume:** Sad to hear about your story, but I know how these things get, sometimes. I just hope it wasn't my review that put you off, that was so not my intention.  
**Merina:** I know I've been death-slow in updating HE, but I haven't given up yet. I'm sorry. I'm just... really, really slow, is all.  
** Kyree:** Thank you very much! I probably got a bit bogged down in this chapter, I know, but I just can not hold it back any longer. I'll try to do another huge edit of the whole story sometime in the future, and smoothen it out a bit more. Keep telling me your thoughts!  
**aka Arashi:** We've talked, so you know how much I LOVED your reviews! I hope you liked this chapter too, and thank you for all your encouragement  
**T-Money:** Thank you. Bear with me, and you shall.  
**Sethus:** The world he is in is one I've thought up mostly on my own. I will not deny that I have gathered inspiration from both here and there, but no, It's not based on any specific, pre-existing idea. Thanks for the compliments!  
**Erin C:** Yeah, I know what you are talking about. It was that same sense of emotional trauma at the end of Berserk that got me to start writing this story. It's therapy for me too. I'm glad I've managed to pull you into the fold, and I hope you'll stay with me, because believe it or not, this story is just beginning! (I'll try to be faster...)  
**Jeebus Dirtface:** I thank you. I know any fanfic author is going out on a limb by adding OCs, and this fic has more than 95 of them, so it means a lot to me to hear you say that. Of course, I have the advantage of having them all in a completely different world, but still... it could go so wrong.  
**Drachen:** I know! (flail) I'm sorry! Thank you so much for having stuck with me ever since the beginning! Your patience is amazing!


	22. Placeholder Chapter

Placeholder Chapter!

Hello. It's been a while, I know. I have managed to finish a college degree, learn a new language and change jobs, I have lost some family members and gained some new friends. I have grown and improved and generally done a LOT of evolving as a person.

And still, through it all, I never once forgot about this fanfic of mine. So, I intend to finish it. But some things have to change.

For example, the first eight chapters of this story must be rewritten like whoa. I'm not kidding. There's so much crap in there, I don't even want to... ugh. The other chapters will also be swept up in this editing tsunami, and will therefore be subject to change.

I have already changed the first chapter to a better version, which also included the removal of all my pre- and post-text rambling. This is a trend that will continue. The disclaimers and comments and reviewer responses will be gone, when I am done with the "spring cleaning." I want nothing but the text in the body of this story.

From this point on, I will respond to reviewers only by PM, and only if I feel like it. This will also be my modus operandi from this point on: I will write what I want, when I want it and how I want it. I will be gone for as long as I want, and I will return whenever I want. Do not expect speedy updates.

I will continue this story for my own sake, because there are things I need to say – to myself – in this story, and I honestly don't really care anymore if no one else gets it. I will leave it online, because that way it will be so much harder to lose it. If you read it, great. If you enjoy it, awesome. If you GET it – why it must be a fanfic, even though it's so much original, what I mean to say between the lines... drop me a note. I probably want to know you.

If you don't get it, but find it entertaining: Awesome, I'm glad I made you happy.

Don't get me wrong: Anyone and everyone can read this story, and feel whatever they want to feel about it. I don't mind – I might even encourage it. But I will not be writing for your sake. If I do that, I begin to block myself. I know that now.

Writing this story will and must be a work of pleasure for me, and I will do it only on my own terms. I will listen to any critiscisms or feedback that you might have, and I will be thrilled to hear about possible ways to improve this story. I'm not saying I'm going to stick my fingers in my ears and go LALALALA IT'S MY STORY I CAN'T HEAR YOU I DO WHATEVER I PLEASE WITH IT LALALALALA. I'd like to think I'm more grown-up that that by now. But I won't be fretting about someone else's opinion. I'll choose what I want to listen to, and what I want to ignore.

Do feel free to review, even if you only want to say "good story realy funny lol wrte more!" It'd be cool to know someone's still out there, still interested – And I won't even try to discriminate: I should be nothing but grateful if anyone even wants to say that much about this... long overdue... original universe... weird almost-not-fanfiction-y thing. But I may not respond to you. It will depend on my mood.

When I am finished with the real Chapter 22, this placeholder rant will disappear as well. No, I don't know when that will be. Maybe after I've finished all the editing of the previous chapters, maybe sooner. We'll just have to see.

So, just in case anyone wanted to know: I'm still alive, and I still intend to finish this fic. There's a long road still ahead of our heroes, and I mean to see it through.

Thank you to all the beautiful people who have supported me through these years. Thank you to everyone who has contributed to the growth and depth of Hawk and Phoenix, whether you know you did or not.

Thank you.

Kore kara mo, yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

-Elin1


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